Watching the Watchers
by Polly
Summary: Jess-centric, set in Season 2. As Luke struggles to bond with his nephew, Jess’ resurfacing past may cause more of a danger than either one realises. Chapter 6 up!
1. Chapter 1

Watching the Watchers

Part 1/?

Standard Disclaimer applies – I don't own them and that's probably a good thing.

Summary: Luke has a very …unusual guardian angel – whether he wants it or not!

Set in Season 2

A/N – so this is very new to me and is my first (and possibly only!) venture into the Gilmore world. It was my obsession with Peter Petrelli that led me to the character of Jess and I immediately fell in love with him. I'm not so focused on his love for Rory, although I know it's a valid obsession with Jess but I do like his relationship with Luke and so that's what I'm going to focus on.

I don't know if this is going to be a one-shot or whether I'm going to expand on it into a more Jess-centric look at his past and how he can never quite be rid of it in an angsty plot. I do love my angst :-)

I guess it depends on the responses from people and whether anyone's interested. I also don't want to lose track of my Heroes story but I've got some holiday time at the moment to dedicate to writing.

BTW, thanks to _ShaolinQueen _for giving me the idea to make a start on this!

Also, I'm a UK writer so there may be the odd word or spelling that you aren't familiar with. Please bear with me, lol.

* * *

The sheets of snow fell against the glass of the apartment window. From where he sat, nose buried in an old Victorian mystery novel, Jess shrugged a little deeper into his coat and backed up a little on his mattress, drawing his knees up to his chest in an effort to retain more body heat.

Luke's apartment was just fine for him but the windows could do with being double-glazed. The wind whistled through the gaps between the wooden frame and the wall and sent a chill throughout the room. The heating in the apartment, under normal circumstances, was actually more than adequate to temper its effects. Indeed, Luke never seemed to complain of a lack of heat in the place. But then again, Luke never seemed to complain about a lack of _anything_: the man was infuriatingly stoic.

Jess' problem stemmed more from the fact that his winter coat had seen one too many winters and one too many frozen New York nights when returning to his mother and their apartment had posed more of a risk to him than the falling temperatures around Washington Square Park. It was now thinning, the lining all but gone and practically useless. But practically useless things could still be favourites and Jess allowed himself small moments of sentimentality: moments few and far between enough, and carefully guarded enough not to get him hurt by careless talk.

Still, every now and then, Jess would have liked a new one – something thicker and a little less holey. He sighed. He would have to make the effort to save the money Luke was giving him from the diner. It amounted to little more than an allowance and even in the sugar-coated world of Stars Hollow, good clothing cost more than a week's allowance. But he could save, when he needed to.

The Bracebridge Dinner was thankfully over and Jess was glad to be able to return to, what had become, normal. Not that seeing Rory Gilmore had been a chore and the demolition of the town's snowmen had also been well-worth the effort but being in enforced company was alien and uncomfortable for him. He had only agreed to attend the dinner, partly for the delightful Miss Gilmore and partly because his uncle's guilt at his mother's rejection was still eating away at him. Jess wasn't the most empathic of souls but even he could see that Luke's thinly veiled lie was not enough to counter his depression at his sister's lack of maternal skills. Attending the dinner with Luke made his uncle feel better, like he wasn't abandoning his nephew at Christmas.

Christmas. God, that never held too many pleasant connotations for Jess. It wasn't that all his past Christmases were filled with miserable tales of abandonment and the odd lump of coal found at the bottom of a threadbare stocking. On the contrary, some of his earliest Christmas memories were quite pleasant – trees, nicely wrapped presents, they even made an attempt at going to the children's service at the church: Liz made more of an effort when he was little.

Or perhaps it was because he was a lot easier to handle when he was very small, before he knew enough to realise he should be resenting his mother, instead of helping her. Before he realised what a mother should be providing and that it wasn't an eight year-old's job to put his drunken mother to bed or check her pulse in the morning when she didn't wake up to walk him to school. Of course, _had_ he been more manageable she may have found it easier to be nicer, too. Jess pushed those thoughts aside and once more tried to turn his attention to the drama unfolding on the page instead of in his life.

Luke had given him the night off from the diner. He was closing up early in light of the Christmas season and insisted his nephew had the day off. Jess wasn't sure if he'd heard his uncle right the first time he had informed him, spatula in hand whilst making him breakfast that morning. But Luke had just growled in response to his incredulous questioning and barked at him to get the plates and cutlery out. Jess had been tempted to point out that he had no-where to go and nothing to do on this grand day off he was being granted but then reconsidered: whatever he found to do, had to beat working in the diner. And it's not like he was ever consulted over what shifts he wanted to work, like other employees were so he would take time off whenever it was given.

Putting his book aside for a moment, Jess rubbed at his eyes, stood from his floor-bound mattress, stretched and then went to fetch a glass of water. On returning, tumbler in his hand, Jess resettled himself by the window, this timing leaning over to look out. The town was as sickeningly chipper and busy as always – festooned and lit up like a magical Christmas tree. He had to admit though, a small part of him found it quite festive. Outside, under his window, he could both see and hear the town's loudest mayor, Taylor Doose, ringing a bell, collection pan for some charity resting by his feet. He often seemed to lay stakes for his various ventures, right outside or even inside Luke's property and Jess was certain he did it simply to annoy his uncle.

And the more Jess thought about it, the more it angered him. Sure, he gave Luke a hard time any which way he could but over the months with his gruff, clueless but well-meaning uncle, Jess had developed a weird version of protectiveness about the old man. His own ribbing had been reduced to the less malevolent kind and more along the lines of pesky irritation or, in Jess' mind at least, down right amusing humour. And Lorelai Gilmore gave as good as she got in that department, too, he supposed.

But that was it: no one else was allowed to give this man grief. Luke sometimes needed people with a little more street-sense to look out for him, Jess had decided. And it kind of felt good to be looking out for someone, he realised - just like he used to do for Liz when boyfriend number two of the week didn't turn out to be the handsome prince she had taken him for. Or when that bottle of scotch mysteriously made its way down the kitchen sink, rather than into her already soused stomach. Jess never had to admit his intentions to anyone, but they felt good inside – a little bit of worth in an otherwise worthless soul. Not that Luke seemed to cotton on to this but then again, why should he? Jess had wound up grounded for an entire weekend after the chalk outline stunt but the venture had been worth it.

Down below, Taylor still rang that blessed hand-bell and bellowed out some ridiculous saccharine festive message to all and sundry. Now it was getting darned well impossible to read his book, too. Spying the two-litre cola bottle filled with water for the window plants, Jess carefully took it, undid the lock on the frame and pulled the glass up, just a fraction. A moment or two of getting the positioning just right and then Jess carefully tipped the bottle on its side, over the edge of the windowsill, unscrewed the cap and then sat back and counted in his head.

_Three, two, one…_

The shocked scream and sudden wild clanging of the bell brought the first real smile to Jess' lips that day. The frazzled, harried cursing coming from the previously saintly figure below, brought the second.

From down in the diner, Jess heard the door slam open and someone very loud storm inside. There was then a rather heated exchange with Luke, which ended, Jess was happy to hear with Taylor being unceremoniously thrown out. Then he disappeared off down the street, presumably to plan a protest march or something.

Jess resumed his place on his mattress and once more took up his book, content in his services for another day. Presently, the door to the apartment opened. Jess did not look up from his book.

"Jess." He didn't sound angry…just, tired. Jess spared him a glance before returning to the page.

"Tell me it was just water in that bottle."

"Bottle?"

Luke folded his arms and narrowed his eyes as he stalked over to the windowsill and retrieved the empty bottle from the window. Jess eyed it with sudden understanding.

"Oh _that_. Yeah, I was just watering the plants."

"The plants are _inside_ the window."

"Well in the spirit of the season they wanted to share their good fortune with the plants outside, too."

"Jess," Luke began, a warning tone in his voice and Jess braced himself for another lecture. However, his uncle suddenly seemed to think better of it because he stopped himself and said, instead. "Just leave the horticultural stuff to me, okay? And stay away from this window." Jess nodded. "And from Taylor." Jess smirked but after a glare from Luke, he nodded again.

Sighing, Luke knew had got as much as he was going to get from this conversation and at least Jess had stayed in the apartment to hear it all out to the end, this time. The diner still needed running so he turned and headed back to the apartment door. He was almost at the threshold when he heard his nephew call after him.

"Luke?" The older man turned, suspiciously.

"Was he…very wet?"

And Luke turned back towards the door as quickly as he could, hoping the teenager hadn't noticed his smile before he had a chance to hide it. He coughed once and forced his voice into a deeper, gruffer tone.

"Read your book, Jess."

"Yes, Uncle Luke," Jess replied, turning the page with a satisfied smile.

* * *

Thanks for reading getting down to this point. Reviews are warmly welcomed and taken out and dusted off whenever that annoying thing called Life, keeps getting me down!


	2. Chapter 2

Watching the Watchers – Chapter 2

Summary: As Luke struggles to bond with his nephew, Jess' resurfacing past may cause more of a problem than either one realises.

Disclaimer: Since the last chapter, I have not come in to ownership of the delightful characters of Jess, Luke Rory or anyone else from the Gilmore Girls.

A/N – Ok, so there's a little Rory in this one but make the most of her because that's it, folks! Seriously, I don't envisage this being a very long fic so all things in proportion and all :-) . Thank you SO much to everyone who took the time to read and review. I hope I responded if you left a signed review and to _Lit needed _– thanks for reviewing. Sorry there won't be much R/J but there is a little snippet of them in here and there'll be a hint of L/L next chapter. But I'm not a good romance writer, I'm afraid. And to _Christie_ – thanks for your review. I'm really glad you liked it and I hope you enjoy this, too.

Again, some spellings are of the UK variety – please be warned :-) And there are a couple of swear words, just to warn you, but nothing major.

* * *

"So did you and your mom enjoy your prize?" As he walked, Jess zipped his jacket up tighter under his chin and shoved his hands in his pockets: his gloves had a hole across one thumb but his pockets were still holding fast. The young man could not fathom how biting the wind seemed to be and how quickly the temperatures seemed to have dropped. He was almost tempted to give in and ask Luke for an advance to buy a new coat but stopped himself, just in time. He didn't mind saving money, he certainly had no problem spending it (whether it belonged to him or not) but the one thing he hated, was being in debt. From beside him, Rory graced him with a mischievous smile and elbowed him, playfully in the ribs.

"You know, my mom and I strongly suspect foul play may have been involved in the procurement of our victorious title?" It had been a lucky chance that he had spotted her as she walked, laden down with last minute festive goodies, on her way back to her house. Jess had absolutely no idea how she and her mother could consume so much food but he was beginning to learn that the Gilmore clan was a law unto itself.

So he now walked with two large, brown grocery paper bags under both arms, filled to bursting with cookies and ice-cream and whipped cream and generally things that would give Luke a hernia, while Rory held the third. He was actually getting kind of used to this, this chivalry thing. Well, he silently amended, he could get used to it for Rory Gilmore. Anyone else would have been left scrabbling by the side of the road, desperately trying to balance tubs of Ben and Jerry's and cans of soda.

He discretely watched her as she pushed one long strand of hair behind her ear, and tugged her woolly hat further down on her head. Her blue eyes seemed to shine with an even brighter azure glaze in the frozen temperatures. He smiled, transforming it into a smirk when her gaze turned sideways to meet his.

"And your mom was bothered by that prospect?" he questioned. Somehow, he doubted it. Rory shrugged and smiled.

"Heck no! A victory is a victory – we wear our laurels with pride." And on saying so, she stuck her chin out and held her head high. Jess chuckled.

"I'm sure you do. If I walk you all the way back to your house, will you show me your laurels? I bet they look good." Immediately, the rosy blush spread across her cheeks and she lowered her head, casting her eyes down. Jess grinned: it was so wonderful to be able to embarrass her like that – she looked adorable when she was. However, it was Christmas Eve and he didn't want her angry with him so he moved on.

"You know, traditionally you should also ride round town in one of those sleighs dragging the body of your opponent behind you." They paused at a roadside as a Station Wagon trundled past and he was relieved to see her head come back up and her expression relax in to a smile.

Rory's eyes widened, in excitement. "Yes!" she enthused, " And the town would all cheer and wave and some would fear us. And they would erect a giant marble arch in our honour!"

"All hail," Jess added, nodding his head. Then she sighed.

"Alas," Rory informed him, with mock solemnity, "the mysterious snowman builder has left town, never to be seen again."

The traffic eventually cleared and they set off across the road, mindful of the icy patches. Jess tutted and shook his head, taking her arm suddenly, to guide her over a particularly nasty patch of ice, which was difficult to do with two bags of groceries in his arms.

"Ringer," Jess informed her, knowingly.

She turned to him and laughed. "That's exactly what my mom thinks!"

"Oh God," he groaned. "Tell me I'm not starting to sound her like her!"

They were now heading up her garden path and Rory paused, with her key in the front door. She turned around and fixed him with a wicked smirk.

"Well that's it. You're definitely not seeing my laurels now." As she turned back to the door, she silently savoured the look of surprise that had crossed his face, if only for a fleeting moment.

He followed her in, once the door was open, kicking it shut behind him. "So where do you want these?"

"In the kitchen would be great, thanks," she informed him, leading the way in case he needed an invitation. In fact, Jess almost felt like _did_ need one. The last time he had been in this house had been at his infamous welcoming dinner where he had given off possibly the best first impression he could have hoped for. Lorelai's frosty command to _stay out of her fridge_, in Jess' mind, extended to _stay out of her whole damned house_. But he didn't mention this to Rory and, rather hesitantly, followed her in to the kitchen and dumped the bags on the wooden table.

Rory took off her hat and shrugged out of her coat. A moment of silence ensued. She began to shuffle her feet, nervously as Jess simply stood, in her kitchen, looking at her, all dark eyes and tousled hair.

"So," she began, aware that words were needed. "Do you want to…stay for a cookie or something?" He laughed but not unkindly. She still felt her ears tinge a little pink at such a Martha Steward suggestion. Rory was suddenly very aware of Dean's absence.

"No thanks," he informed her. He dug his hands into his pockets, the gesture making him look much younger. "I should be getting back."

"Oh," she answered, ashamed by how relieved that made her feel. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Luke starts listening out on police frequencies for liquor stores that are being held up if I'm gone too long."

She laughed. "Well, okay then. Do you guys have any plans tonight?" She walked, half guiding half ushering him to the front door. When they reached it, she held it open for him as he passed in front of her.

"Not that I know of. Fill the napkin dispensers; clean the oven – the suspense just has me tingling."

At that moment, a loud, bustling noise brought both teenagers' attention to the path ahead of them as Lorelai Gilmore came bounding towards the front door, mouth already babbling.

"So, daughter of mine, I have got the best movie _ever_ so I hope you've got the…" Then she stopped, at that moment noticing Jess. He turned to face her, his expression schooled into neutral disinterest, outwardly nonchalant, inwardly wincing.

"Oh," she exclaimed, lightly. "Jess. I didn't know you would be here. Today. Christmas Eve." Her smile held a question very clearly within it.

Jess looked to Rory, whose mouth had opened without sound, and gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I was just leaving." At that, Rory seemed to find her voice.

"We kind of over-did the pre-Christmas goodies – not in quantity," she hastily reassured her mother – "That's not possible. Just in bulkiness. Jess saw me struggling and helped me carry the bags back home." Her mother's expression softened, though a hint of mild curiosity remained.

"Well," the elder Gilmore started. "That was…very nice of you, Jess."

"S'okay," he mumbled, unable to meet her gaze for anything longer than a second.

"Yes," Rory continued, sensing the lingering awkwardness. "He helped me unpack."

"I just put them on the table," Jess cut in, quickly.

Lorelai appeared amused at his obvious discomfort. "Oh. Okaay. Well, thanks again, Jess." Grateful at finally hearing a dismissal in her tone, Jess took his leave. He darted past both Gilmore women and was off down the path like a shot.

He paused on the sidewalk and turned to give Rory one last, short wave. She waved back as her mother called out. "Give my best to Luke."

_Best of what? _He thought to himself with a smirk but just nodded once before leaving the Gilmores to their junk-food feast and movie and heading back home to Luke's.

* * *

Inside the diner, Luke placed the last chair up on the last table then turned the _Open_ sign round to _Closed_. He had never closed up so early on Christmas Eve before but with his nephew around, particularly on his first holiday with him, Luke wanted to make some kind of an effort with the Season. He would close the next day as well, though he wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to do with the pair of them. How did you entertain a seventeen year-old nephew at Christmas? Take him to a show? Go for a walk? Attempt to get his drunken sister on the phone to actually talk to her son? Actually, he decided, he would scratch that last one.

Luke turned his thoughts to that night. Jess was still out somewhere and the absence of blaring sirens in the street continued to give him comfort. He had tried harder with the tree, this year. It was bigger and not a scraggly one picked out at the last minute from the Discount section. After much persuasion, he had even managed to convince Jess to help him decorate it and after a long, hard twenty-five minutes the tree ending up looking…very much like a tree that two guys had reluctantly agreed to decorate. There was tinsel, some baubles – even a string of lights. Digging around the bottom of the decoration box for some kind of a star, Luke could only come up with a bedraggled looking angel to put on the top. He couldn't even recall where it had come from. Jess had simply treated him to a withering look and point blank refused to put it on the tree. Luke didn't push it.

The bell above the door rang and Luke looked up, for one minute suspecting a hungry Gilmore could not resist a last minute round of pancakes, despite the _Closed_ sign. He was relieved then when Jess pushed his way through the door, stamping his feet to get some warmth back in to them.

"Lock it behind you, would you?" Luke called out. Jess turned back to the door and did as instructed, sliding the bolt over with a solid click. "Where have you been?" his uncle wondered.

"Out." As he walked over to the counter, next to Luke, the older man was surprised to see his nephew silently grab a dishcloth and start to wipe down the counter. Sometimes the kid did things like that, Luke thought to himself: little acts of thoughtfulness that he never asked to be acknowledged, he just did. Maybe he wasn't doing _so_ bad a job with him, after all? In fact, Luke pondered, he had been surprised by how much he had come to take his nephew's presence for granted: how much, despite the boy's attitude and his own grumbling, he really was enjoying having him around.

He knew the townsfolk didn't agree with him but even they were beginning to come round – some of them. Slowly. If only Jess would let them see the side of him that _he_ was getting to see: the kid with the witty and quick sense of humour; the kid who, in some way gave a damn about how you were; the boy who in all honesty and whether he realised it or not, just wanted someone to depend on and not let him down.

But, Luke realised, the boy had far too many walls built up around him to let people close enough to see those things. So, with a sigh, he let the notion go.

"Out where?" he pressed.

Jess rolled his eyes as he rinsed the cloth under the tap and hung it out to dry. "Just out. Around. Taking in the view. Perambulating. Is that okay?"

"Uh huh," his uncle muttered. "Well I think we're done down here. Can you get the lights in the kitchen while I do the ones out here?" Jess nodded and once they were plunged into semi-darkness, they both made their way carefully up the staircase and in to their apartment.

Immediately, Jess grabbed a soda then went to his mattress and sat down. His book was in his hand before Luke had even shut the fridge door. Shaking his head in disbelief, Luke popped the lid on his beer and took a swig. He came round to flop down on the couch with an over-exaggerated sigh. Jess glanced up, irritably from his book and then glanced back down again.

Noticing this, Luke smiled. He took another deep swig of his beer, swallowed then let out a loud, satisfied exclamation. Again, he could see his nephew's eye twitch as his fingers carefully turned the page. It was a book he must have read a hundred times judging from the folded back paper cover and the curled pages but Luke had never seen anyone treat a book with such respect as his nephew did.

Pulling the footstool closer, the older man then proceeded to stretch out lazily, propping his long legs up and muttering a string of relaxed, nonsensical sounds and words just like his grandfather used to do as he settled down to read the papers.

At that, Jess threw the book down in his lap. "What!" he demanded. "What do you want from me?"

From the couch, Luke opened his eyes, smiling and feigning innocence. "I'm sorry. Did you want something?" Jess glared at him, hotly.

"Well you're huffing and puffing and making it impossible for me to concentrate so you must _want_ something." Luke gave in and chuckled.

"Oh, okay. It's just that your head is always buried in a book whenever you're in this apartment and since it's Christmas Eve I thought we might practise that little known art of conversation." Jess looked at him sceptically and Luke could see the protest forming on his lips. However, just as he was convinced the boy would take up his book once more, Jess surprised him by closing it and placing it beside him.

He folded his arms and looked at his uncle as if to say: _happy now_? And Luke was. Mostly.

Jess shrugged. "So?" he asked. "What do you want to talk about?" And when put on the spot like that, Luke suddenly didn't know and was starting to feel a little ridiculous. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, obviously straining for something to start the ball rolling. It wasn't meant to be this hard to talk to your family, damn it! From over on his mattress, he heard Jess sigh, irritably.

"Well let's see you think of something!" Luke challenged back, turning sideways to get a better look at him. But Jess was shaking his head.

"Nu-uh. You're the one who wants this scintillating conversation so you get to start it."

"Don't think you can annoy me into letting you just go back to reading your book," Luke shot.

"Never dreamed of it," Jess countered.

"Really?"

"Absolutely. I'm just sitting here, waiting for your pearls of wisdom."

"Stop being a smart-ass," Luke declared, throwing his hands up in the air.

Jess smirked. "See? We're having a conversation already."

Now it was Luke's turn to roll his eyes. "This isn't a conversation. It's an argument." Jess cocked his head to one side.

"Same difference with us," he remarked and though he had meant for it to be casual, Luke could detect the underlying bitterness tingeing his words.

"Well not at Christmas, it's not," Luke declared, with a firm resolve. Looking pointedly at Jess, he patted the seat beside him. For all of Jess' horrified reaction, he might just as well have suggested the boy cut his hand off. "I am not having a conversation with you half way across the room," Luke insisted.

The teenager shook his head, frowning. "I'm not sitting on that couch. You'll want me to start sharing and talking about my feelings and crap like that."

Luke just shook his head in exasperation. "Heaven forbid! Now park yourself on this couch, sharpish." With a put upon sigh, Jess heaved himself up from his mattress making Luke all the more aware that he really needed to get the kid a proper bed. He'd have Social Services on his back soon for lack of due care. Traipsing across the room, Jess deposited himself in a huff next to his uncle. And there they sat, side by side, in silence.

Jess took a sip of his soda while Luke twirled the bottle round between his fingers.

"So," he began.

"Shall we see what's on the TV?" Jess interrupted. Luke shot him a glare before he remembered it was Christmas Eve and he was trying not to glare. Or frown. Or shout. Damn, this conversation was going to be limited.

"No," his uncle insisted. "We are going to _talk_," and he emphasised the last word, nudging Jess with his elbow. Jess scowled and moved along the couch as far as he could. "Now," the older man continued. "Do you have anything special you want to do tomorrow?" Jess responded with a one shouldered-shrug and a teenage non-committal noise. Undeterred, Luke pressed on. "Come on, Jess. Work with me here. I'm trying, you know? But I don't know what you like to, you know, _do_ at Christmas."

Seeing his uncle's genuine concern and insistence, Jess relented, just a little. Turning to face him, Jess waved one hand dismissively in the air. "I don't do anything."

Luke's face crinkled in confusion. "What? _Nothing_?"

"That would be what the word implies."

Luke gave an uneasy laugh. He half suspected his nephew was telling the truth and that made him very uncomfortable. "Come on, Jess!" he insisted. "You have to have _something_ you and Liz usually do. Maybe…something you guys have for dinner? Or…or a movie you usually watch?"

If he couldn't see him with his own two eyes, Luke would never have known his nephew was seated mere inches away from him. The boy sat motionless and silent, staring blankly ahead and for once Luke didn't really want to press him to talk. He was suddenly aware of having babbled too much and asked the wrong question. In fact, Luke sincerely hoped the boy _wasn't_ going to respond because he had a suspicion he wouldn't want to hear the answer.

Eventually, Jess' reply was quiet, hard and even. "There are plenty of things we do but they're not exactly traditions I want to keep going." And Luke nodded, slowly.

"Okay," he said and Jess was grateful that was the extent of his answer. "So let's see what's on the TV." And picking up the remote from the side table, he switched it on. Uncle and nephew then spent the next three hours in amiable company, flipping channels and eating snacks.

Jess remained silent for the first hour, not saying a word, not moving a muscle, his face pinched and his eyes hollow. Whatever was going through his mind bore no relation to the festive movies and Christmas specials playing on the screen. It pained Luke to watch - a tight, binding pain, sharp in the middle of his chest - and the older man resolved that by the end of that evening, three things were to have happened: Jess would eat something; Jess would edge his way back to the centre of the couch and Jess would smile. Talking would be a bonus but he wasn't going to push his luck.

By the time they had finished their television marathon and an exhausted Jess had been sent off to bed, Luke had achieved all four.

As the older man cleared away the evening's mess with a proud chuckle for his astounding parenting abilities, he paused to quietly turn the music off by his sleeping nephew's bed and dim the lights.

* * *

When the battered Dynasty pulled into Stars Hollow, out of state plates barely visible under the dirt, the driver was pleased to see the streets deserted. There was no time, night or day in New York when you ever had the roads to yourself. But she had been right – this really was the epitome of the quaint little small town. Glancing down at the sheet of paper in his gloved hand, the man squinted and then looked up at the street ahead of him.

"Right where she said it would be," he muttered, watching the small diner's sign swinging gently in the wind. The whisky burning in his stomach, combined with the chemicals already in his bloodstream gave him a sense of fearlessness and adrenaline, which coursed through his body, charging his muted mind with random bursts of energy. The fact that he had managed to navigate himself all the way to Stars Hollow without a single collision, was truly a Christmas miracle. He swung the car to the side of the road, kerbing it onto the sidewalk and pulling on the handbrake with a resulting screech.

He glanced at his watch. It was late but he didn't care. He'd been driving all night and the sooner he could get this over with and get back home, the better. The little punk would probably be asleep by now, but tough shit. If Liz wanted him back for Christmas morning – though he assumed that was likely the alcohol talking, more than the mother – then she'd have him.

* * *

OK – thanks for reading down this far but please, please, please drop me a quick note to tell me what you thought, before you hit that Back button to read another story!

More to come when inspiration strikes.


	3. Chapter 3

Watching the Watchers – Chapter 3

Standard Disclaimer applies

A/N – once again, thank you so much to those of you who took the time to review the last chapter. I've tried to reply to everyone but I need to say thanks to _Lyn_ and _Lucy_, too – I'm glad I can share the Luke/Jess dynamic with the rest of you! :-)

Okay, well I really hope you guys enjoy the next part.

* * *

Sinking back wearily on to the battered couch, Luke took his cap off and brushed his hands through his hair before replacing his cap in its customary backwards position. Staring at the newly decorated Christmas tree, Luke was suddenly struck with a ridiculous sense of pride over it. Sure, the Gilmores would claim it was pathetically decorated and by their standards, it probably was.

But for Luke, not only was he proud of its general colourfulness but also that he had achieved something for his nephew that he was reasonably sure he hadn't had before. At least, not for some time, he'd wager. And it felt good – like he was giving the kid just a little something of what he'd been missing. Wings sticking out of the box in the corner, Luke spotted the angel and was suddenly very tempted to stick it on the top of the tree, to see what Jess made of it in the morning. No doubt angels were one step too far in Christmas traditions for the boy to handle.

He cast his gaze down to his watch. It was coming up to midnight. Luke stood and stretched, working the kinks out of his back with several audible and worrying pops. Jeez – he wasn't getting old, was he? He thought for a moment. No. Maybe it was having a much younger person constantly around him that was causing him to make comparisons all the time? Yes that had to be it.

He stood from the couch and casually wandered past his nephew's bed. Pausing by the foot of it, the older man took a moment to observe the sleeping form, spread out languidly on the mattress, seemingly without a care in the world. His face was smooth and carefree, void of the lines of sarcasm and defence that usually marred it.

In one hand, Luke spotted the book, earlier discarded. It was tucked under the boy's right hand, partially covered by his body as Jess had rolled to his side. Shaking his head, fondly, his uncle smiled. With careful, soft treads, Luke moved to kneel by the teenager's bedside and gently pried the folded back book out of his hand, lifting the inert figure ever so slightly to ease it out the rest of the way. He took a look at the title: _The Woman in White_. Flicking through the hundreds of pages gave him no better idea of the story's plot but he immediately knew it wouldn't be his kind of book.

He placed it neatly by the head of the bed then turned back to his nephew. Instinctively his hand went out to the slumbering young man's head but he stilled his action just in time, leaving it hovering uncertainly in mid air. The last thing he wanted to do was wake him, knowing how outraged Jess would be at the gesture of sentimentality. However, that said, the kid tended to sleep like the dead. A brass band could probably march through the apartment and he wouldn't wake up.

Mind made up, Luke quickly took the opportunity to run his fingers through the tousled, un-moussed bangs, smoothing it away from his forehead and lightly brushing the side of his face with one thumb. Instantly, he could feel the muscles in Jess' face twitch and Luke froze. But he didn't stir and when Jess remained sleeping, his uncle relaxed a little. The boy obviously didn't like being touched while he slept. After a moment, Luke saw his face relax once more in to its peaceful, lax expression. Smiling, he decided to push his luck even further and retraced his thumb across his nephew's sleeping face in a feather-light touch. This time, Jess did not move or flinch. It seemed to Luke as though he recognised his uncle's presence and somehow, the older man knew he had just been classed as _un-threatening_ – someone safe, to be trusted.

And as he withdrew his hand and sat back on his haunches, Luke was suddenly transported back to those few times when he had gone camping with his family, as a child. One morning, very early, when the forest was still in dappled half-light, he had crept out of the tent he shared with his sister. He had left her sleeping and wandered alone down the forest path, the tall fir trees towering above him. Now Luke would be the last one to claim that he was a _nature _person. Sure, he could appreciate its beauty, like everyone else, but there was no connection for him: nothing that really caught his imagination. The trees were grand and majestic, the flowers smelt beautiful, the animals were…cute, he supposed – most of them. But that's where his associations ended.

But on this morning, while walking through the forest, Luke had suddenly looked up from where he had been staring at the fern-covered path and stopped. There, standing mere feet away from him was a deer, crossing from one shaded part of the forest to another. Luke didn't move, he just stayed perfectly still. And as the animal stared at him, poised and ready to run, Luke was struck by the notion that he was being evaluated, assessed by a creature used to running from strangers.

They stood there, on that path, neither one moving for what seemed like a lifetime. Luke had silently willed no one to come trampling along at that point, blundering in and ruining his moment. And it _was_ _his_ moment. _He_ was being trusted, _he_ was being granted a privilege not shared by everyone and though it made him sad to think that Liz and his parents would never experience it, Luke didn't want anyone else to have this, too. Luke didn't have many connections with the wider world of nature, but this had been one of them. And now, looking down at his nephew, he felt he was being granted the same experience again. He had forgotten how good a connection of trust could feel.

Though he didn't want to break the connection, Luke knew he couldn't stay there all night. Trying hard not to make too much noise, he clambered to his feet, stepped over the mattress and made his way over to his closet. There he pulled out the bag of gifts, neatly wrapped. Feeling absurdly excited, Luke went to the tree and, one by one, started laying the gifts out underneath its branches. He wasn't sure if Jess would find the notion lame but he also didn't care. He'd never had a kid to give Christmas to so Jess was just going to have to put up with getting his presents under the darned tree. He should count himself lucky that he wasn't made to hang a stocking on the end of his…mattress. Well, maybe not.

Though Jess hadn't been living with him for very long, Luke liked to think that his nephew had not been a stranger to him when he arrived in Stars Hollow and that he had a reasonable idea of what the kid would like for Christmas. Liz always told him that Jess appreciated the gifts he sent on Christmas and birthdays. Occasionally – _very_ occasionally, Jess had even informed him of that, too, in very brief phone calls or a note scrawled at the bottom of a birthday card. Well, _scrawled_ was hardly a word that could be used to describe his nephew's handwriting, which was usually a neat and cursive script even if the word content took brevity to new depths.

Of course, picking out the latest Power Ranger toy had been easy for Luke – it was difficult to go wrong when kids were that young. As Jess had hit pre-teens though and developed more individuality, Luke had found the present buying harder. For several years he simply sent Liz the money and asked her to either buy something the kid would like or just give it straight to him and let Jess decide. However, conversations with less gullible people in Stars Hollow led Luke to the realisation that his nephew more than likely never got to see a penny of it. He'd then started sending gift vouchers and Liz's flow of enthusiastic, gushing thank you cards surprisingly dried up.

This year, Luke had relied partly on his own ideas and partly on Rory's. He knew she didn't know him _that_ well but out of all the people in Stars Hollow, Jess had probably talked to her the most. She had given him the title of a new book by one of Jess' favourite authors: Luke couldn't remember which one (she'd ordered it for him from Amazon and wrapped it, too) but he assumed it wasn't one of the dead ones. Luke had topped up the book supply with book tokens. It seemed a bit of an easy option but he knew Jess would probably prefer to choose his own.

Then there was a CD of classic rock that he hoped Jess didn't own. Hell, he probably just downloaded all the music he wanted but if Luke was going to be subjected to music every time Jess went to sleep, he may as well start playing something that both of them enjoyed. It wasn't expensive but Luke had wanted a few more bulky things for Jess to open – the book aside, envelopes didn't look that exciting.

Luke took the carefully wrapped CD and, not for the first time, toyed with the blank label in his hands. As yet, nothing had arrived in the mail from New York and Luke's confidence that the next delivery would bring a package, a padded envelope, heck, just a regular envelope had gradually disappeared with each passing day. There'd be no delivery tomorrow, regardless but the chances of something arriving after that? He wasn't holding his breath. Once more, he felt a surge of anger course through him. Damn it! This wasn't fair – it wasn't fair to Jess and it wasn't fair to him. How dare his sister put him in this position? How dare she force him to lie like this? When he agreed to take his nephew, he didn't realise he was letting her wash her hands of the whole situation – he just thought he was helping out.

He picked up a pen and laid the label flat against the book, nib resting uncertainly on the blank space. Jess would know he was lying. Lorelai had already pointed out that the kid knew more than he was letting on. He'd see right through it. If he had any sense, Luke would just sign the damned CD from himself. He wasn't fooling anyone. But the thought of him getting nothing from his mother was too much for Luke. Hastily, he scribbled down his sister's name and placed it, also, under the tree. If Jess questioned the handwriting, Luke would just explain that Liz had sent him the money to buy something for him. Yeah, that would work, the older man told himself.

The last item was a reasonably large, rectangular box. He'd not been sure about it and had constantly changed his mind back and forth, right up to the last minute. It was more than he was intending to spend but in the end, Luke justified it by reasoning that this gift was more for his own peace of mind than his nephew's enjoyment. The man in the cell-phone shop had assured him that this model would fulfil all of his particular needs. And probably a lot that he had no use for whatsoever. All he wanted was simple – a way to get in touch with his nephew instantly while he was out and about. Now, if Jess was going to be late back, he could call. If he got in to trouble, Luke would know about it. If he knocked off a liquor store, he could at least give Luke a head's up to find a lawyer.

With the last gift laid down, Luke stood back and surveyed his handiwork with approval. The clock on the wall told him he should be getting some sleep of his own if he wanted to be of any use the next day. However, the first ring of the phone startled him into action. Thankfully, he was standing near it and leapt to answer it before the noise woke Jess. Holding the handset against his chest, he shot a quick look at his nephew, relieved to see him sleeping soundly. Yup, an entire brass band, he thought to himself.

Then Luke turned his attention to his mystery midnight caller, irritation warring with curiosity. "Hello?" he asked. Then he frowned and wearily pinched the bridge of his nose as if staying off a migraine.

"Lorelai, do you have any idea what time it is?" he whispered, moving as far away from the teenager as he could. "Wait," he started, abruptly, concern washing over his face for a moment. "Is everything okay? Are you and Rory okay?" He listened to her frenetic, babbling answer and breathed a sigh of relief. Then the irritation came back.

"It's Christmas Eve, Lorelai. Heck, it's probably Christmas _Day_ by this point. What could you _possibly_ need now?" He listened and groaned. "Well have you checked the fuses?" Her sharp response made him hold the phone away from his ear for a moment. Frowning heavily, he brought it back to his ear. "Well there's no need to yell at me," he snapped, still making an effort to keep his voice in hushed tones, constantly casting assessing glances at his nephew.

"You're the one calling _me_ at this un-godly hour and I had to make sure it wasn't the blindingly obvious at fault. Besides, do you really _need_ all those lights tomorrow? I mean, small aircraft are going to start landing in your front yard the way your house is lit up!" And as he listened to her apologise and plead and cajole and beg and even offer to give up coffee for a month, then amend it to a week, Luke just _knew_ he was going to end up agreeing to go over. And why? He sighed. Because he was a sucker, that's why. And because it was those Gilmore girls.

Cutting her off, mid-spiel, Luke raised a placating hand, even though she couldn't see it. "Okay!" he agreed, listening to her squeal in delight, albeit quietly as she was also trying not to wake her own child. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be over there." He paused and grimaced. "If I'm not there in ten, send out a search party. I'll probably be buried under a snow drift somewhere or mugged by a big, fat guy in a red suit."

Leaving her thanking him profusely over the phone, Luke hung up and went to grab his coat and scarf, followed quickly by his toolkit. He briefly considered leaving a note to tell Jess where he was going but then thought better of it. Chances were very slim that he would wake up, anyway. There was only one light left on in the apartment and Luke now switched it off, confident in the street lighting outside to give him enough illumination to make it outside.

So, slipping out of the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind him before descending the stairs. The diner always looked strange to him at night time, deserted and in darkness. Carefully, being wary of knocking in to any of the tables with their stacked chairs, Luke wove his way to the door. As he closed it behind him, he suddenly remembered that his keys were upstairs. Well, he decided, there was no point in locking the diner – he wouldn't be gone long and the day's takings were already safely banked.

* * *

So, treading a fresh set of prints into the newly fallen snow, Luke set off for the Gilmore's woefully unlit house.

He never did notice the car parked by the side of the building and when the retreating form was far enough away, Clyde opened his door and stepped out. He had enough sense left to remember to close it quietly behind him but looking around at the deserted town, he supposed it didn't really matter.

He'd been watching the apartment window for some time now, waiting for the right moment. A man had been in there, presumably the uncle Liz had talked about. Clyde had waited impatiently for the man to go to bed and kept his eyes trained on the one remaining light that he could see shining through the window and on to the snow below.

When it had finally gone off, he had breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally! He would have to wait a little longer, he knew, to make sure the guy was asleep. Somewhere between the drink and drugs, he understood it wasn't going to be easy but just _what_ the problems were going to be, the bulky man hadn't quite figured out yet.

Jess, he knew, _wasn't_ going to be an issue. He remembered the kid from before Liz sent him away and, though he liked to talk hard, the boy was a tiny bit of nothing. He wasn't a match for Clyde and he never had been. Eventually, the kid had learned not to try and provoke him but rather to stay out of his way. And now, some alcohol-induced rush of Christmas soppiness had Liz gushing like a mad woman and pleading with him, through slurred words and over very old photographs of her son, to _bring her baby home_.

Luke had taken him, she insisted angrily, through her torrents of sobbing. Her bastard brother had taken him and now he wouldn't let her see him – he wouldn't give him back. And okay, he didn't put much stock in that: Liz was a little messed up, after all. But in some, screwed up way, he cared about Liz and he gave a damn when she was this upset. And hell, it was Christmas, the one time of the year when you're supposed to do _nice_ things for the people you care about.

The grizzled man sat back in his leather seat and waited. He'd give the guy another half hour, he decided. But as it turned out, that wouldn't be necessary. When the door to the diner opened, Clyde immediately hunched down in his seat, his first thought that his car had been spotted and deemed suspicious. However, he watched in growing excitement as the uncle not only left the building and headed off down the street but left the door to the diner, handily unlocked. Clyde grinned. This was a sure sign – a sign he was doing a good thing.

So now he approached the diner and silently tried the door. It opened, invitingly. He winced as he registered the sound of the bell above the door but then realised there was very little chance it would be heard by anyone. Shining his flashlight into the blackness, Clyde made his was cautiously across the diner's floor until he reached the heavy curtain at the side of the counter. The adrenaline pumping through him, he pushed the thick material aside and shone the light up the staircase. At the top of the narrow landing, Clyde could see a glass door. If he was in luck, the uncle hadn't locked that one, either. Not that a locked door would have held him back but it certainly made things easier.

Taking the stairs one at a time, Clyde climbed to the top. He paused outside the door and shone his light on the handle, gripping it firmly in his meaty hand. The man held his breath and twisted his wrist. With a gentle click, the handle pushed down and the door swung open.

Clyde crossed the threshold in one step, stopping once inside, to get his bearings. The apartment was orderly but small – pretty much all one room. It was a very good job this brother of Liz's _had_ gone out, he realised. She had neglected to tell him that Jess wouldn't have his own room. Like that wouldn't have made a difference! Damn stupid woman! Still, things had all worked out in the end.

He spotted him. On first glance he almost missed the mattress, lying on the floor, next to the bed. Shining the flashlight on the sleeping boy's form, Clyde grinned. Nothing to it. In no time at all, he was standing over the kid's bed. He had to admit though, even in the short time that he'd been away from Liz there was something about the kid that seemed…different, even in sleep. He couldn't put his finger on it.

He moved the beam to shine on Jess' face and, with the intense light bearing down on his eyes, Jess began to squirm, tossing his head from side to side as disorientation overcame him. He began to mumble as his brain fought to find an explanation. "What the hell?" His voice was confused and sluggish as his hands came up to his face to shield his eyes.

"Hello, Jess."

Instantly, Jess' attention snapped from the light to the voice. He was dimly aware of recognising it but still too mired in the confounded grasp of sleep to respond. He responded soon enough, however when he felt the heavy, sharp kick to his stomach. He couldn't help the cry of pain that escaped his lips as the bile rose in his throat. Instinctively, he curled himself into a ball in an effort to protect himself from further blows. But it made no difference. With another sickening crack, Clyde's boot connected with his side sending him tumbling off the mattress. But this time, Jess was prepared for it and, though he gritted his teeth and bit down hard on his tongue, he didn't cry out. Instead he fought with all his might to get his bearings, to figure out what was going on and to work out how to defend himself.

_Where was Luke?_ He asked himself as he struggled to overcome the sensation of panic. His side felt as though it were on fire and each rasping breath he took wracked sharp, stabbing bouts of pain through his upper body. _Was Luke injured? Had he already got to his uncle first?_ And despite his fear for himself, Jess' mind would only race with these thoughts. _If Luke were there, he would be defending him, surely? But he didn't need Luke. He never had before._

As quickly as he could, Jess rolled on to his knees and pushed himself up. His hand reached out in the semi-darkness for the large, hopefully heavy object he could make out nearby. Clyde, however, saw this easily and stamped his heavy foot down on Jess' hand causing the boy to, once more, cry out.

"God damn!" he gasped, clutching his hand to his chest.

Leaning down, Clyde grabbed a handful of Jess' dark hair and yanked him to his feet as Jess cradled his right hand in his left. He was breathing hard. He knew his attacker now and his brain was starting to catch up. Anger, hatred and fear: all of them shone through his dark eyes and cold sneer. "What the hell do you want, Clyde?" he spat, willing the tremble in his voice to stay down. His legs felt weak and his stomach churned. Any moment now he was sure he was going to vomit. But for all that, he held his head high and fixed the man right in the eye.

Still gripping his hair in one fist and twisting Jess' left arm roughly behind his back, Clyde leaned in close to his face so that the stink of cigarettes and alcohol made Jess' lip curl up in disgust. He tried to reflexively move his head away from the stench but he was still held fast by his hair. _Don't show him you're afraid, don't show him_: he repeated the mantra silently to himself as he continued to stare.

"It's time to come home, Jess," Clyde informed him in a deceptively calm voice.

And for the first time in a long time, Jess felt the kind of panic and dread that he had hoped to God he had left behind him for good. He should have figured it: nothing good lasts forever and his time, it seemed, was up.

* * *

Okay – I know I said one more chapter last time but it seemed easier to post this bit now while I soldier on with the rest of it. It seemed like a logical place to pause before posting. I hope you guys liked it. I'm afraid action sequences aren't really my thing so I'm sorry if it didn't ring true. I'll try and improve for the next chapter.

Please, please, please let me know what you think. It doesn't take much time to write but it makes a huge difference to my day for a lot longer afterwards :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Watching the Watchers – Chapter 4

Standard Disclaimer applies – don't own them

A/N – a huge thank you to every one who reviewed! They really helped propel the next chapter along. There's one more chapter to go after this one so I hope to wrap things up to everyone's tastes! :-) And to _**sisterdear**_– thanks for the review: chocolate-chip cookies would be my preference if you could whip me up a virtual batch? Many thanks :-)

Thanks also to _**Blonde biatch**_, _**Jules**_and _**Lyn**_ – I'm sorry I couldn't reply to you individually but I really appreciate you taking the time to review!

* * *

One thought flashed through Jess' mind as the grip on his arm tightened and his shoulder twisted painfully behind him so that at any moment, he suspected it would just pop out: _don't let him take you_. By no means had Clyde been the worst of his mother's boyfriends but regardless, Jess knew if living with them under normal circumstances was hard enough then returning as a captive with likely both of them either drugged or intoxicated, or both was terrifying.

With a sickening realisation, he knew that Luke, wherever he now was, would have no idea where to even start looking for him. For all he knew, Jess could have just randomly taken off somewhere. After all, since when had he shown any outward signs of affection to either his uncle or to Stars Hollow? Just the other day he had told Rory the whole town was filled with jerks. Then another thought swiftly followed: for all he knew, Luke may not even bother trying. For a moment, the sharp pain it caused in his heart, eclipsed the building ache in his shoulder and sides. Its intensity surprised even him.

"Come on," Clyde muttered, his confidence in the boy's cooperation increasing. He released Jess' arm from behind his back and instead, gripped it around his upper arm in a vice-like hold. His arm was given a sharp yank forwards and Jess stumbled a few steps as his feet moved unwillingly, to keep pace with his attacker. As soon as he registered that they were moving towards the door, Jess' instincts began to take over.

His arms were practically useless but with his left foot, he suddenly swiped low across the floor catching Clyde around his ankles and causing the bigger man to lose his balance. His addled brain quickly lost equilibrium and Clyde hit the floor with a resounding crash and angry exclamation.

"You little bastard!" he yelled, the flashlight falling to the floor with a resulting smash. The grip he had on Jess' arm however did not ease up and the teenager quickly found himself following his abductor to the floor. With all of his might, Jess wrenched his arm away from Clyde's mammoth digits and stumbled backwards as one force suddenly far out-weighed the other.

With the flashlight broken, the room was once more plunged into semi-darkness, only the light of the moon outside casting an ethereal glow across the room. Jess breathed a sigh of relief. Clyde could out-fight him any day of the week but at least Jess knew his surroundings better. Such a small space, in the rules of combat, wouldn't give him much of an advantage but his brain was also free from drugs and alcohol. Jess only prayed that would increase his edge.

Once the older man had hit the floor, Jess aimed a sharp kick to his prone form, eliciting another angry exclamation. Eyes fixed straight ahead, the boy made a run for the apartment door. It was still wide open and an easy escape route. However, before he had taken two steps, Clyde had recovered enough to make a fierce lunge for him. Jess screamed as he felt a claw grab his ankle and tug him to the floor. He fell heavily, sprawling in to something large and sharp as he did so. With the sound of rustling and tinkling, the Christmas tree toppled over, pine needles sticking painfully outwards.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, fear increasing. His already bruised sides screamed in protest at the sudden impact as the breath was knocked out of him. Ignoring the latest burst of pain, Jess rolled on to his side and continued to roll away from where he hoped the lumbering giant was. As quickly as his ragged, painful breathing would allow, Jess twisted himself onto his knees and pushed, shakily to his feet. Without giving pause for thought, he set off once more for the door, in a mad dash. Round the table, his hands grasped for where the back of the couch was.

Clyde, however, was not far behind. Back on his feet and angry beyond words now, he stumbled forwards.

On hearing him so close behind, Jess' mind had frozen in a sudden moment of sheer panic. In the darkness, his hands fumbled blindly for where he gauged the back of the couch would be and through his mounting palpitations, he could almost have cried when his desperately searching fingers couldn't find it. Where was it? It was around here somewhere! He had to be going in the right direction! How could an apartment so god damn small be so difficult to escape?!

He was breathing heavily, almost wheezing – so loudly he was sure it could be heard down the block. Jess' heart thumped rapidly and heavily in his chest, threatening to burst its way through at any moment.

"You shouldn't have done that, boy!" Clyde snapped. "God damn it, kid – you just don't _think_, do you? Now you know what I'm going to have to do to you now, don't you? You do remember, don't you?"

With almost preternatural precision, he shot out one hand into the night. It connected with its target immediately, clamping itself around the back of Jess' neck. The teenager gripped wildly at it, clawing the fingers holding him in place, but to no avail.

"Get off me!" he yelled, desperately, aware of how futile pleading was and hating himself for having to stoop that low. His voice sounded high and rasping as the air to his lungs was constricted. The tears were welling in his eyes but he would not let them fall. "What the hell do you want with me, man? I've done nothing to you _or_ Liz! Just leave me the hell alone! I won't tell anyone that you were here."

The man laughed. "And just who do you think's going to give a damn about a worthless piece of crap like you, anyway?"

Jess bit his tongue to save himself the pain his retort would have caused him. Besides, he acknowledged with a sinking heart, it was probably true. His uncle was no-where to be found and it wasn't like the rest of the town's folk would be launching a search and rescue party for him. Hell, they'd probably have a _block_ party when he left. Given a day or so and Luke would come to realise what a relief it was to get back to the way things were before. Before he came along and starting screwing their perfect little lives up. But that sure as hell didn't mean he wanted to go back home!

Clyde laughed again. "Now Liz, on the other hand, she seems to have come over all maternal."

Now, despite the dire situation, it was Jess' turn to laugh. Clyde gave his neck a rough shake, rattling his head.

"That's enough out of you!" he warned. "She's your mother and you're going to show her the proper respect. You pull any of that crap you used to do back home and I'll have you in pieces, Christmas or not. You got that?!" He shook him again and dealt a swift blow to his stomach, for good measure. It landed with a dull, heavy thud. Jess doubled over, as much as the grip around his neck would allow him to and grunted in pain. Apparently, Clyde took that as suitable response because he nodded, satisfied.

When he had regained the ability to speak, Jess asked another pressing question. "Where's Luke? What did you do?" Though he couldn't see him, he felt Clyde shrug and could detect the honesty behind his words.

"He left. Nothing to do with me. Left every door unlocked as he went then took off." He sneered down at the boy. "Yeah – he obviously gives a damn about you, that one does. And I'll just bet he secured all his valuables first!"

Jess ignored him and the stinging in his heart. Well why the hell should Luke give a damn about him, he realised. It's not like he'd been particularly nice and his own mother couldn't care less and she had more reason to do so than Luke did!

Jess knew he wasn't the easiest person to get along with but he had also accepted, sometime around his ninth birthday that there were just some people in life who were _unlovable_. There wasn't anything they could do to change it – no sense of humour, no good deeds, no hard work at school: it wasn't their _fault_, it's just who they were. And once Jess had accepted that, like a medical condition, he was also _unlovable_, it made his life a lot less painful.

Stars Hollow had made him weak. _Luke_ had made him weak, had made him for a moment, lose sight of this. However much he despised Clyde's visit, it was good that he was reminded of it. It doesn't pay to forget who and what you are.

"You can tell Liz," he ground out, "that she'll have to make do with her vodka for Christmas. She _had_ her chance for me to come home and she didn't take it." And on saying that, Jess took one last attempt at freedom, ramming his elbow backwards into the man's solar plexus. Reflectively, he released his grip on Jess and the boy spun around and swung his fist in a wide arc. It connected sharply with the older man's jaw with a satisfying crack, causing the gibbon to stumble backwards. Jess grinned. He may never win the fights, but damn it felt good to get a hit in once in a while!

Clyde recovered quickly and swung his own punch, catching the boy square in the face and whipping his head round to the side. This time, Clyde didn't give him a chance to recover. He wanted to get out of there, he needed to get the kid in the car. He came for him again, shouldering in to Jess' chest and slamming him in to the wall. Several pictures crashed to the floor as Jess impacted with the plaster. Pain spread across his back like fire. He gasped. A blow to his stomach followed then another. Jess lunged forwards to the hulking form but he was only caught before he could make a connection and thrown across the room again. This time he landed heavily on the table, knocking it onto its side as he fell, sending the contents all over the floor.

Panting heavily, clutching his side, Jess glanced up, too weak to move. A fit of harsh, wracking coughs suddenly overcame him as he struggled to breathe. The tears of exertion streamed unbidden down his face.

Clyde stood over him, leaning down. He couldn't move. Even if he wanted to, Jess simply didn't have the energy left. With a moment of quiet acceptance, he saw Clyde draw back his foot, aimed directly for his head. And though he didn't want to admit to fear, in the darkness he thought it wouldn't matter: the boy closed his eyes so that he wouldn't see the boot fall. Then he waited.

However, instead of the rush of air and the sickening crack of impact he had been expecting, there came instead a cry of anguish from above him and the flooding of light to the previously dark room. His eyes screwed shut from the sudden blinding sensation. From over head, he could hear Clyde stumble away from him and then the sound of fist meeting jaw for the second time. He opened his eyes amazed and stunned to see Luke standing there with an expression so murderous and cold it didn't belong on his benevolent, fumbling uncle.

Still too pained to get to his feet, Jess kicked backwards with his legs until he had scrambled out of the way. He watched in fascinated horror as Clyde ran to his uncle, attempting to push him off balance. His heart was in his mouth. Luke was a small town guy: he didn't have a chance against someone like Clyde. Luke owned a diner for pity's sake! He didn't have a prayer. But as he watched, a look of wonder began to cross his face. Clyde may have had the size but Luke wasn't too unevenly matched, nor in strength. But above all else, it was Luke's determination and anger that seemed to propel him to the front of this fight.

"Jess!" his uncle snapped, eyes still trained on the intruder. "Get out of here, now!"

Jess almost laughed. Screw that! Like he was letting Luke fight this on his own! He may not be much, but Jess also knew he could be a backup, if needed. And this was too good to miss. He stayed where he was, scrambling a little further back as Clyde almost fell across his path when Luke sent another blow across his chin.

Jess could hardly believe it and felt his face crack in to a smile. This couldn't be _his_ uncle!

"Jess!!" Luke growled and the kid was suddenly taken aback by the anger in his voice. "I said get the hell out – now!"

"This is nothing to do with you!" Clyde managed to gasp, addressing Luke for the first time. His opponent hadn't been as easy to overcome as he had originally thought and the grizzled man realised he was going to have to start talking. "I just want the kid. _Liz_ wants him – she's his mother for God's sake." He saw Luke pause, still poised for the next strike but obviously prepared to hear his explanation. His curiosity was, after all, only marginally lower than his instinct to protect his nephew. _That_ came above everything.

Seeing the uncle pause, Clyde pressed on. "Liz just wants to see him. That's all. He wasn't cooperating. Little punk - you know what he's like. I don't want any trouble with you – I just want him."

"Well then you've got trouble with me," Luke answered, voice rising. He glanced down at his nephew who, he noticed with increasing anger and concern, _still_ had not moved despite having a clear access to the door. He was sat against the far wall, just behind the towering form of his attacker. Luke was facing them, back to the door. God damn that kid – he just wanted him out of the way!

He had been almost half way to Lorelai's when he had realised he had forgotten his flashlight. Not trusting her to have one to hand, Luke had turned around and headed for home, grumbling all the way about the favours he was going to be owed when this was over. When he first re-entered the diner, nothing appeared out of the ordinary but the first crash and cry from upstairs had, momentarily, stopped his heart in his chest. With a chilling realisation, Luke remembered the unlocked doors and his sleeping nephew. He had taken the stairs, two at a time until he was on the landing.

Looking in through the open door, Luke could see that the apartment was a mess. He had no idea what the man wanted – the obvious place to rob would have been the diner downstairs. But when he saw his boy on the floor, holding his sides in agony and prepared for a final blow to fall, Luke had been struck by sudden epiphany that there was something more valuable than money he now had for others to take. And it felt both wonderful and terrifying all at the same time.

He didn't even remember moving across the floor, only landing the blow that sent this intruder flying backwards.

And now he knew why. Liz wanted him back. _Now_ – Christmas fricken Eve, she wanted him back. Well no way. No way in hell and after tonight, never again.

"You can tell my sister," he began, in a quiet, steely voice, "that she had her chance. She blew it – just like always. Now get the _hell _out of my home!"

That's when Jess saw it. The back pocket of his jeans, blade glinting wickedly in the light, it remained unnoticed by his uncle. The events seemed to unfold in slow motion for Jess. As the two men talked, he could see Clyde's hand surreptitiously sliding back, fingers grazing the handle. The knife had slipped into his hand like opposing magnets. The man took one step towards his uncle and Jess was on his feet before he even knew what he was doing.

"Luke! Look out!" His uncle's eyes widened in surprise at his nephew's unexpected movement and he cried out a warning, futilely as he saw where the boy was headed. No sooner had Clyde thrust the knife forward between he and Luke then Jess was in front of him, intercepting its path and grabbing the hand that held it, pushing it up above their heads as he struggled, tugging one way and the other, to dislodge it.

"Jess!" Instantly, Luke was there and the extra pressure on Clyde's hand from the man rather than the boy, forced him to loosen his grip. The knife clattered to the floor and Luke kicked it away. It skidded across the wooden floor and came to rest, uselessly, under the couch.

Luke could see Clyde make a last ditch approach towards Jess and, roughly, Luke took a hold of Jess' shirt and pushed him aside. He stumbled back and landed on the couch. With Luke distracted, Clyde decided he had done more than enough. Not even Liz was worth this trouble. A hard shove to his chest send the diner owner back a few paces and gave Clyde the moment he needed to make an about turn and run. Uncle and nephew instantly heard him clattering down the stairs and crashing through the diner.

Jess watched as Luke went for the phone and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Luke?" he asked but Luke ignored him, lifting the receiver. "Uncle Luke!" Luke paused and turned to his nephew. "What are you doing?" Jess wondered, worry lacing his voice.

"What do you mean?" he snapped. "I'm calling the police." But when he registered Jess' fearful, hesitant expression, he stopped. And then he thought about it.

"It's _Liz_, Uncle Luke," Jess said, quietly.

Luke was torn. "Jess, he attacked you."

"But _she_ sent him. I know she didn't mean it and…well, she kind of _is_ my mother. _Your_ sister. You call the cops on him, you could implicate _her_."

Luke thought about it, very reluctantly and soon his hand began to shake with rage and frustration. "God _damn_ that woman!" He slammed the phone back so hard in its cradle, Jess was sure it would break. And then he stopped and looked at his nephew and every ounce of fear and fury came surfacing in one go. He could have been _killed_. He _told_ him to get out: he _told_ him! And what did he do? Did he go? _Did_ he? No, he goes and leaps in front of knife! Of all the stupid, idiotic things…could have been damned well killed!

When Jess saw the rage in Luke's eyes, he shrank back into the couch cushions. He watched in trepidation as his uncle stormed over to him. With one fist, Luke grabbed a handful of his t-shirt and hauled him up off the couch.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!" he screamed, grabbing him firmly by both arms and giving him a non-too gentle shake. Jess was so taken aback that he barely even registered the pain.

"I don't know what you mean?" he protested and then winced. At that moment, he could have sworn Luke was going to hit him. He didn't know why but he could take a guess. The apartment was a mess – table knocked over, pictures broken, not to mention the tree taking up half the floor. And this was _his_ fault, _his_ mother's boyfriend sent to collect _him_. Even when he didn't mean to, he caused nothing but trouble to this previously quiet little town. He squared his jaw and glanced away, mentally preparing for the blow.

But the blow never came. When he apprehensively looked up, he could see his uncle fighting an internal battle, obviously struggling to control his warring emotions. The man's strong jaw was grinding away and his eyes were hard and cold. Jess waited, uncertain of what he could do that wouldn't provoke him. A small, childish part of him wanted to be reassured that everything was going to be all right. But the grown up part of him realised that it probably wasn't. He may actually have just blown his last chance.

Looking at his nephew, Luke forced his anger back down, at least to a more manageable level. All he wanted to do was protect the kid – why did he have to make his job so damned difficult? Jess was staring at his bare feet, reminding Luke of a much younger, less secure nephew. A part of him wanted to hold him but another part was still just too angry.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, quietly, mentally kicking himself when he realised that should have been his _first_ question and he sure as hell shouldn't have been shaking his nephew! God, what was wrong with him? He didn't deserve to be parent, at this rate.

As he spoke, Luke knelt in front of him and gently took Jess' head in his hands. With the impression that he knew what he was doing, Luke ran his hands across Jess' face and head, assessing for injuries. He looked in to his eyes, ghosted his fingers across the bruise forming on the boy's cheek. His jaw tightened. How _dare_ Liz send a psycho like that to his home? How could she allow _anyone_ to hurt this kid like that? No one got to hurt him! No one – never again. Not for the first time, he reconsidered his decision to let the bastard go.

On seeing the returning anger to Luke's expression, Jess knew not to push his luck and screw the evening up any more. "I'm fine," he muttered, willing the pain in his side to subside.

His breathing had been laboured since the second blow to his chest and Jess had been silently struggling to respire easily through the pain. He'd hoped it was a temporary discomfort. Now, hearing the air strain to wheeze in and out of his lungs, he wasn't so sure. But it could wait, he decided firmly. It wasn't important, at least not right now. He would be fine, he was sure. Given some rest and a few painkillers, he'd be good as new. He'd survived a lot worse, after all. From where he knelt in front of him, Luke raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Honestly," Jess pressed. "A few bruises here and there but I'll live." And Luke seemed to consider this for a moment. Finally, he seemed to relent. He grunted and rose to his feet, moving to the freezer. He returned with an ice pack and pressed it to Jess' face, instructing him to keep it there. Eager not to rock the boat any further, Jess complied.

"Stay there," Luke muttered. "I'm going to make a phone call." From the couch, Jess nodded and watched as his uncle grabbed the phone and moved it as far as he could to the other side of the room. Once there, he dialled a number by heart and waited with a thudding heart until it was answered.

"Lorelai?" he asked, quietly, willing his voice not to crack. "I…I need you."

* * *

Okay – I'm going to try and get the last chapter out in the next couple of days. Again, please, please drop me a quick note to let me know what you thought. I really do appreciate it and it helps propel me into writing, more easily :-) Take care now!


	5. Chapter 5

Watching the Watchers – Chapter 5

Standard Disclaimer applies – don't own them.

A/N – ok, so I know I said this was the last chapter, but it was starting to drag on a bit so I thought I would finish it now and do a shorter one to follow. Again, thank you SO much for your kind reviews! They've really helped keep this bobbing along.

I couldn't reply to all reviews so: _**sisterdear **_– wow! What a lovely review (and cookies!) – thank you. I'm really glad you picked up on the little things like the _unlovable _comment – that means a lot.

_**Lyn**_ – thanks for reviewing. I'll definitely think about another Jess fic but I'm also really aware I've got to get back to my Peter Petrelli fic that I've kind of abandoned! Maybe after that, cos Jess really is a tempting character :-)

_**COOLKAT**_ – love the name, BTW and thank you for taking the time to review. So it's going to be a _little_ longer than 5 chapters, but not by much I'm afraid :-)

And _**Jesslover **_– I'm really glad you're enjoying this – hope you like the new chappie.

There are a few perspective changes but I've tried to indicate the main ones with line breaks. Hope you can bear with me. :-)

* * *

By the time Lorelai Gilmore had pulled on her coat, hat and gloves her mind was already racing along with her heart. Luke's phone call had been brief and limited in its details but the urgency in his voice, not to mention the very existence of the phone call, at one in the morning, had sent panic coursing through her. Luke needed her. Her friend, her very best friend outside of her own daughter, needed her and it almost broke her heart, imagining what he must have gone through to make such a desperate plea. Suddenly, she was ashamed of the anguish she had been feeling over her failing Christmas lights, not one hour earlier. Life was funny that way.

He had asked her to come alone but that hadn't been a necessary request. Whatever would cause a late-night emergency phone call was not something she wished to expose her daughter to, particularly when she didn't know the details and how safe his situation currently was. In the back of her mind, she turned her thoughts to Jess. Luke didn't mention him but she got the impression he was very much at the heart of things. He was certainly present because she could think of no other reason for Luke to have kept his voice low and guarded. If Jess had been missing, it would have probably been the first thing out of his mouth, anyway.

Her initial misgivings over the boy were certainly not enough to want him exposed to anything of this sort, either. She was still a mother, after all. As Lorelai climbed in to her car, she hoped the kid was all right. The insightful young woman knew how much Luke's affections for the boy were starting to develop and, like any protective friend, she didn't want to see his feelings crushed or hurt. However, she almost wished Luke would detach himself a little more from his nephew, though she knew how unfair that would be to the boy. It was just that Jess' presence in Stars Hollow seemed so…transient. Like at any moment, he would be gone as quickly as he arrived. Lorelai didn't like to think what that would do to the gruff diner owner with the heart of gold.

As she started the engine and pulled away from her house, Lorelai knew that it would be just as easy to walk. Though the roads were clear of vehicles, the snow on the ground would force her to drive about as slowly as she could have walked it anyway. But if she needed to travel further a-field to help him once she got there, then at least she would be prepared.

She parked out the front of the diner. Luke had told her the door would be unlocked. Lorelai almost felt as though she were following the secretive instructions left on a tape, in some kind of spy movie. She tried the door and, sure enough, it opened. On entering the diner, she suddenly stopped as her breath caught in her throat. Tables and chairs had been knocked over, pushed aside with haste as someone had obviously made a mad dash to the exit. Her first thought was that Luke had been robbed. On Christmas Eve! It was outrageous! Didn't crooks have any sense of decency?

She moved to the staircase and as she made her way upstairs, Lorelai listened out for indicative sounds from the apartment. Yet, oddly, all was quiet. The door was slightly ajar and, tentatively, she knocked softly and pushed it open.

* * *

When Luke heard the soft knocking, he breathed a sigh of relief. As Lorelai Gilmore entered the room he saw her gaze scan the apartment and fall, with widened eyes on the mess. He had meant to clear it up but had only managed, since hanging up the phone from Lorelai some fifteen minutes earlier, to re-check the bruising on Jess' face and then to stand, uselessly by the door.

When her eyes fell on Jess, still seated awkwardly on the couch, icepack to his face, Lorelai felt an alien pang of emotion. Well, she considered, a mother's instincts were kind of universal, after all. He looked so small all of a sudden, so unsure of everything. Yet at the same time, just as brash and aloof as he usually did. From beside her, where she still stood in the open doorway, she heard Luke come to join her.

"Thanks for coming," he said, softly.

Startled out of her contemplation, she turned to him and gave him a warm, reassuring and sympathetic smile. "Not a problem," she assured him, taking off her hat and gloves. "Luke…" She paused, looking over towards where the teenage boy was currently staring straight ahead of him and pretending they didn't exist. "What the hell happened?"

He sighed wearily and ran a hand through his hair. Whatever was going on in his head, she could see he was angry. Someone had broken in to his home and hurt his kid. If it had been her – if it had been Rory bruised and battered, the young woman knew she would be tearing down the walls by now. With a sickening realisation, she suddenly knew it had been facilitated by her, calling him out of his house, with a ridiculously trivial errand. Guilt washed through her and once more, she looked over to the silent figure on the couch.

With surprisingly gentle gestures, he took her to one side and explained. "Liz," he began, venom lacing his words. Lorelai held her breath – this was getting more complicated than she realised. Sure, Liz wasn't getting Mother of the Year any time soon, but this would be low, even for her. "Liz got stoned, or high or whatever the hell is wrong with her and wanted Jess back for Christmas."

Slightly uncertainly, Lorelai repeated: "She wanted him back?" Luke nodded. "But Luke, didn't you say," and here she lowered her voice, "didn't you say that she didn't ask him back?"

Bitterly, he nodded again. Lorelai's blue eyes narrowed in rising anger.

"I don't get it," she returned. "So he's her _property_? She just snaps her fingers and the kid has to come running back to her on Christmas Eve?" Luke didn't respond but she didn't need him to – she was already on a roll. "What is he? A puppy? Luke the woman is disturbed. I'm sorry – I know she's your sister, but she is seriously disturbed!"

He sighed again and rubbed his tired face in his hands. "Tell me about it," he muttered. Then his tone seemed to soften, just a fraction. "She doesn't mean it," he insisted, weakly. "She's just." He considered his words for a moment. "She's in a pretty bad place right now." And Lorelai simply nodded. She may have her own opinions and damn, it was difficult not to voice them, but she still imagined her friend knew his sister and her situation better than she did.

Seeing her remain quiet, Luke was silently grateful, knowing she probably had more than one opinion on the subject: there was hardly a subject that she _didn't_. But he was glad not to have to morally defend a woman who he was barely resisting the urge to kill, himself.

"She sent someone. Jess said it was a guy named Clyde Bartell. He's been her boyfriend now for about six months. For Liz, that's practically a common-law marriage."

"And he…did this?" She indicated the mess all around them. Luke laughed, harshly.

"Understandably, Jess was less than eager to be dragged out of his bed and thrown in a car headed back to New York."

She nodded, eyes filled with concern. "Is he okay?" She watched in concern as Luke's face once more darkened.

"He's fine," he muttered, obviously not wanting to dwell on the unsavoury reminder of this attack. Seeing her doubt, he clarified. "I mean he's going to be sore for a couple of days – a few bruises here and there. The town will probably think he's been up to his usual wicked ways again. But ultimately, he's fine."

Looking over to where Jess had still not moved, she felt a wave of fresh sympathy. It couldn't be easy to know your own mother had unwittingly caused you this much pain and fear. But she guessed he was kind of used to it by now. "Have you called the police?" she wondered, already suspecting the answer. Luke shook his head.

"I wanted to – I really did. But once I'd got him away from Jess, the kid didn't want any more to do with it. I guess he just wants to protect his mother."

"Well," she replied, softly. "That's understandable, I suppose." She rubbed a soothing hand gently up and down his arm, surprised by the tension she felt there.

"Hey. You okay now?" she questioned. To be honest, she was getting a little concerned about him. By now she had expected him to be talking to his nephew, but he seemed to be doing all he could to avoid even _looking_ at the kid. As if sensing the direction her thoughts were going in, Luke suddenly turned to her, his eyes blazing.

"That damned kid!" he growled. "I told him to get out but he wouldn't! He just sat there! I told him to move and he _would not go_!" And as he shot a glance at Jess, Lorelai could see tears welling in his eyes. "How am I supposed to protect him if he won't listen to me?" he asked, desperately. She squeezed his arm, gently, not knowing exactly what to say. She hadn't ever seen Luke this angry before and if it was starting to scare her, what must it be doing to the already traumatised Jess?

"And do you know what else he did?" Luke hissed, leaning in closer to her. "This guy pulls a knife, right? A fricken _knife_! And what does Jess do? Leap in front of it!" His eyes widened as he began gesticulating wildly with his hands. Alarmed, she took a step back. "He could have gotten himself killed and it doesn't even seem to bother him! I'm just…I'm just so God damned _mad_ at him!" he finished.

Attempting to placate him, she took a step closer and leaned in, rubbing a soothing hand on his back. "I know. But it's okay, Luke. You saved the day. He's safe, he's fine. You need to start calming down and thinking about what you're going to do now. He still needs you, remember? You can be mad at him, but don't lose sight of that." Relieved, she saw him nod and some of the tension leave his taut frame.

"Luke, do you mind if I talk to him a second?"

He looked at her a little curiously but he just shrugged. "Sure, if you want."

As she turned to Jess, he caught her arm. She turned back to him. "Um, Lorelai? Would it be okay if Jess and I came and crashed at your place tonight? I mean, I understand if you and Rory want Christmas alone it's just…" he gestured round at the trashed apartment. "I'd rather the kid didn't have to look at this any longer than he has to. It's not exactly a pleasant reminder for him, you know? I can come back on my own tomorrow some time and fix it up." He trailed off, sheepishly, aware that inviting yourself round on Christmas Day was not a generally acceptable thing to do.

But she just smiled reassuringly at him and squeezed the hand that still held her arm. "Of course – just you try and go anywhere else, mister!" Then she turned back to the couch and headed on over to it.

* * *

Jess looked up in surprise when he saw her approach. He had heard them talking in hushed tones though he'd not made an effort to pick out the words. Luke was still angry though – he could tell that much. And so he'd sat as still as he could, just praying that he hadn't screwed things up enough to be sent packing. When Lorelai Gilmore sat down next to him, Jess felt distinctly uncomfortable and exposed, dressed for bed with a discarded icepack on the arm of the chair and looking, no doubt rather dishevelled. It's not like he'd made an amazing impression on her even _before_ this. He shifted a little as he felt her eyes on him.

"Hey," she greeted him, softly and Jess was amazed that he almost choked up at the first sound of a soft and gentle voice. But he reigned his emotions back in, quickly.

"Hi," he returned in a quiet, subdued tone. He just didn't feel up to being his defensive, sarcastic self at that moment and the young man didn't particularly care what she thought of him. He flicked his gaze over to her and then returned it to his lap.

She noticed the large bruise forming on his cheek and winced. "That looks painful."

He shrugged. "I've had worse. I'll be fine."

"Still," she continued, "you okay?" She placed a warm hand on his arm and he turned his head slowly to look at it as if he couldn't comprehend what it would be doing there. Lorelai noticed this, but he also didn't shrug it off so she left it where it lay. Behind his eyes, Jess could feel tears threatening to fall. Furiously, he blinked and looked away.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I already _told_ Luke." At that, her eyes widened a little in surprise but she said nothing to him, making a mental note to talk to her friend later. Jess just didn't strike her as fine, at the moment. Whatever Luke had said to him before she arrived, he obviously needed to supplement it with something else.

And damn it, he needed to be here with his nephew! _She_ shouldn't be the one sitting there, for pity's sake.

"Okay," she agreed. "But you know, just _in case_ you needed to hear it again, everything _is_ alright now. You know?" And for once, he fixed her with a direct look and gave her a small, grateful smile. Her heart lurched a little at the raw pain still shining in his eyes.

"Thanks," he mumbled, quietly. Then he turned his focus back to the floor, signalling the end of his cooperation.

* * *

As she rose to leave, Jess did not look at her. But when she had returned to continue speaking with Luke, Jess seemed to snap out of his daze, somewhat. Sitting there, moping on the couch was certainly not helping their situation. He knew Lorelai was there because his uncle needed a friend, someone he trusted to help him through this. Obviously that someone wasn't _him_ but, Jess considered, that was okay. There were other ways in which he could be useful.

Spying the broom by the kitchen, Jess suddenly took a good look at the mess. Rather than sit and worry about it, he may as well clean it up. He got, shakily to his feet and fetched the broom and a new garbage bag while Lorelai and his uncle continued to talk, over by the door. Then he went to the broken pictures and over turned table and started to straighten things up, righting the table and gathering the fallen items from the floor. His chest still lanced with pain at the movement but it was manageable. When the table was back to its usual state, Jess stood back and assessed it. The room was starting to look a little better.

"Jess!" He turned to the sound. Seeing Luke, glaring at him with hands on hips, he winced again. This didn't seem to be helping alleviate his uncle's bad mood.

"Yes?"

"I don't want you touching that!" the older man snapped. This wreckage was precisely the reason he wanted to get the kid out of there – the idea of Jess having to witness, let alone clear up the mess of his own attack just appalled him.

Jess hesitated. He got the impression that 'out of sight, out of mind' was what Luke wanted with him, but still…

"I don't mind," he protested.

"Jesus, Jess! Could you, _for once_, just do as I tell you?" Luke demanded. Biting his lip, Jess nodded. He took a step away from the table, feeling suddenly useless. It was like fighting a losing battle. No matter what he did to appease his uncle's mood, he just seemed to be making it worse. The broom had been resting against the wall, but now it clattered to the floor. Instantly, the teenager stooped to pick it up before he added to the mess, rather than subtracting from it. Glass still covered the floor from the shattered picture frames and, very quietly, he began to sweep the shards into a central pile.

It came as a shock when he suddenly felt the handle being pulled from his grasp. Shooting his head up, he saw his uncle, broom in hand, rolling his eyes.

"I said _leave it_!" the older man demanded. "It doesn't _matter_. It's not like you're going to _be here_, anyway."

And Jess froze. So there it was. Out of all the blows he'd received that night, _this_ one felt the worst. His heart and stomach both clenched in unison and he felt his hands go cold and numb.

Silently, he pressed his lips together tightly, lowered his head a fraction, and nodded. He had seen it coming. It's not like he didn't expect it. He had just been…hoping differently. With any luck, he'd be allowed to stay Christmas Day or at least until it got light. He didn't know when the buses started running, or if there even were any at Christmas.

"Okay," he acquiesced, softly. He wasn't going to beg: that wasn't his style and besides, it was Luke's right. There was nothing he could do about it anyway. But of all the things Jess had come to hope he wouldn't screw up, this had been the biggest one.

As he stared at the floor, he caught sight of the fallen Christmas tree and almost laughed. He couldn't believe how much he had been ridiculously looking forward to having Christmas around that stupid tree the next morning! At least he had been disabused of foolish notions like that.

"I'll go pack my stuff."

Jess turned to his bed, eyes scanning his belongings for what could most easily be packed tonight and what would need to be sent on later. If ever Luke were going to reconsider, he thought, now would be the time. However, as he held his breath and waited, Luke nodded, his voice quieter now and more gentle.

"Okay – that's good. Don't be too long." Then he headed off to speak again with Lorelai, leaving his nephew fighting the tears that were threatening to fall, arms wrapped protectively across his chest.

* * *

Lorelai and Luke had created a small pile of clothes and necessities to take with them. Having silently watched the exchange between nephew and uncle, Lorelai now watched Luke return, feeling a renewed sense of purpose to have a good talk with this man.

"Wow," she remarked as he approached her. "Harsh much?"

Luke gave her a confused look. "Huh?"

"Back there," she clarified. "The kid was only trying to help. You didn't really need to bite his head off. Particularly as, you know, he _has_ been through a lot tonight."

Luke shrugged, guilt edging his voice as he attempted to justify his actions. "He was sweeping up glass and he didn't even have any _shoes_ on, for pity's sake."

Once more, she looked over at Jess, standing with his arms wrapped about his body and his head bowed to his chest. "Luke!" she exclaimed. "Enough is enough." And Luke met her eyes with surprise.

"What?" he questioned.

"Whatever you've done to comfort him _isn't_ working! He looks like he's barely holding it together!" They both turned to his nephew, who was now occupied with stuffing clothes and books into his carryall. Luke absently wondered how much the kid thought he was going to _need_ for one night.

"He's a strong kid," he insisted to his companion. "I've got to give him credit for that."

Lorelai's incredulous expression made him wince. "But he's _still_ a kid, Luke! I mean…have you actually _told_ him everything's okay? That he's safe?" Luke's guilty, slowly enlightened expression was making her nervous, confirming her suspicions.

"Luke," she began, trying hard to keep the condescending tone out of her voice, knowing how much he hated her lauding her parenting advice over him. "He's not as strong as you think and even if he _is_, he deserves the right to a _hug_, at least."

"He wouldn't have let me!" the man suddenly snapped. "You don't think I want to comfort him? But the first thing he'd do is just push me away. He doesn't like being touched. I only get to touch him when he's sleeping and now you've made me go and say something _really creepy_!"

She shook her head, sadly. "That's an excuse, Luke. You have to at least _try_. I know you got scared tonight and I know that made you angry but you have to get past that. He may have acted stupidly and put his life in danger but you don't get to withhold comfort because of that."

The abrupt pain in Luke's eyes almost made her stop. "I'm not…" he started. But she cut him off, gently but firmly.

"Yes. You are. And you let him just _tell_ you he was fine?"

"Yes," he answered, both defensive and suspicious. She gave him a weak smile.

"I'm just saying I would have checked him. If I were you, I would have him checked out. Just to be sure." And Luke nodded, slowly. When he looked up again, his eyes were shining with emotion.

"I don't think I'm very good at this, Lorelai."

She leaned over and hugged him, tightly. "You're doing fine," she whispered. "But go over there and _talk_ to him. Tell him why you were afraid – tell him why you're angry. For all you know, that is one confused and scared kid over there." Then she released him and pulled back.

"I'm going to take your bag down to the car. Just come on down when Jess is ready." And with that, she picked up his bag and left the apartment, closing the door quietly behind her.

* * *

By the time Luke had said his goodbye to Lorelai, Jess had moved to the bathroom. When he emerged, he was fully dressed and presumably, ready to go.

Luke rose from the couch to meet him. "You all set?" he asked and Jess couldn't help but bristle at the upbeat tone. Luke may be happily resolved to see him go, Jess thought, but couldn't he at least _pretend_ to have regrets?

Pushing down the rising ache in his chest, Jess walked over to his bed and dug around for the book he'd been reading last night. When the mattress had overturned in the scuffle, he was having trouble locating it.

"Almost," he said, digging through piles of sheets.

He didn't have any money, either, but hopefully Luke would pay for his ticket. He'd hoped to be allowed to stay till morning, but apparently not. He had found a bus timetable at the bottom of his bag and, having quickly scanned it, found there was indeed a bus leaving Christmas morning. It left at six so he had plenty of time to make it.

"What are you looking for?" Luke asked, coming over to kneel by his bed. Jess shot him a guarded look.

"My book from last night," he supplied, quietly.

Half-heartedly, Luke started rummaging around the fallen pillows for it, his mind already turning to the conversation he knew he needed to have with his nephew. "Is it important?"

Again, Jess tensed and bit back his hurt response. "It is to me."

The strangled response made Luke regard his boy, curiously. "You feeling okay, Jess?"

Jess gave a short, mirthless laugh and then winced at the pain it caused. Luke gave a half smile.

"Stupid question, huh?" Weakly, Jess nodded.

They grew very quiet for the longest of moments. Jess sat on his mattress, carryall clutched in his hands, staring at the floor. He seemed to be waiting, willing Luke to say something, but the older man wasn't sure where to start. Though the boy's expression appeared blank, Luke could see the torrents of emotions raging behind it. He wondered just what was going through the kid's mind.

"So," Jess started, softly. "Is it time?" And his voice seemed to catch, ever so slightly, on the last word.

"Yeah," his uncle agreed. "I reckon it probably is."

Jess rose to his feet and slung the bag over his shoulder. The book, he stuffed in his back pocket. He looked his uncle straight in the eye, unwavering.

"Thanks, then." And with that, he moved past a confused Luke, heading for the door.

"Jess!" The boy closed his eyes when he heard his name. He couldn't listen to a farewell speech – he couldn't listen to another lecture or how he was very sorry but this was all for the best. Biting his lip to stop it trembling, his back still to his uncle, Jess forced out a reply in as even a voice as he could.

"What?"

He heard Luke stand. "Where do you think you're going?"

And Jess had just about had enough. What the hell was wrong now? What? Did he need to check the bag for valuables? Spinning around, he turned to face his uncle, pain now visible on his face, along with anger.

"What?" he demanded. "What now? I'm _doing_ what you want! I can only get out of here as fast as you'll let me!" Luke widened his eyes in shock at his nephew's words but Jess either didn't notice or couldn't stop himself, now that he'd started.

"I'm sorry about all this!" With one hand, he indicated the apartment. "I'm sorry about the mess Clyde caused and I _know_ I'm the reason it happened. And I know, Stars Hollow was _much_ safer before I brought my knife-wielding psycho friends with me!" Tears were now streaming down his face but didn't even notice.

"And I'm _trying_ to make it right" he insisted, his voice starting to crack. "I'm trying to go without a fuss, to do the decent thing. I didn't even ask to stay on till it gets light. I mean, it's going to be freezing at that bus station till six in the morning but I didn't complain – not once!"

Luke took a step towards his nephew, forcing his own pain back behind the mask of strength that he knew his kid needed to see.

In front of him, Jess was still talking, the words spilling out in a rush, as the tears continued to fall. He was breathing heavily now, the anger having been overtaken by hurt, fear, confusion and pain. And he was past caring if Luke saw it or not.

"I'm trying," the boy repeated, miserably. "I'm trying but I don't know what to do! Nothing I do makes it right. _Nothing_."

"Jess."

Suddenly, he registered that Luke was standing in front of him. Luke was standing in front of him with concern in his expression and pain in his eyes. The older man cautiously reached out his hands and tentatively placed them on his nephew's arms, as if they might burn. Jess just looked at him in confusion. It certainly didn't look as though Luke were about to throw him out but at the same time, he was too worked up to figure out just _what_ was going on.

"Jess," Luke continued, quietly, now that he had the boy's attention. He soothingly rubbed his hands up and down the kid's arms. "Just where did you think I was asking you to go?"

Jess looked down at his feet then squared his jaw and looked back to his uncle. "New York," he answered, prepared for confirmation but now desperately hoping for a reprieve.

Luke closed his eyes for a moment, cursing his own stupidity. "Jess," he began, on opening his eyes again. "You and I are going to Lorelai's for the night. This place is a mess and you shouldn't have to spend Christmas here."

For a moment, Jess did not speak as he allowed Luke's explanation to filter through his brain. He wasn't being kicked out. He wasn't. And Luke stayed where he was, his hands still gently holding his nephew's arms. Eventually, Jess looked at him and Luke could see the fight taking place to regain his emotions, to scuttle back behind those walls.

Luke knew he had to do something before that happened. Removing one hand from his arm, Luke moved it to gently cup one side of the boy's face, mindful of his injuries. Jess pulled back but Luke shushed him, and didn't break the connection. Very carefully, Luke began to rub soothing circles on the kid's cheek with his thumb. He could feel the boy shaking beneath his touch.

"It's okay, Jess," he said, in a low, soft tone. "I'm sorry, Jess. But it's okay now. It's all going to be fine, kiddo. You're safe now. You're okay."

And as he repeated these comforting words, slowly, ever so slowly, Jess began to crack.

He fought and he fought, his lips pressing together in an effort not to cry out, his face battling to remain stoic and still. But before too long, Luke's hand was wet with tears and Jess didn't even try to wipe them away. Despite his best efforts, Jess' lips began to tremble. The first, sharp hitch of breath was the sign Luke had been unconsciously waiting for.

He wrapped his arms around the boy and pulled him, stiffly into his arms, being careful of his bruised sides. At first, Jess remained as he had been, rigid and unyielding, his arms hanging limply at his sides. But as the next breath came out in a hitch and the first sob followed, Jess allowed his head to fall onto his uncle's shoulder. And then he cried. With comforting, reassuring hands, Luke gently held him and rubbed circles on his back, murmuring words of comfort.

"I should have talked to you, Jess," he assured him as the young man continued to silently cry. "I'm so sorry I let it get to this. But you're safe now kiddo. You're not going anywhere, whether you like it or not. You're stuck with me, kid." And against his neck, he thought he felt Jess smile.

Eventually, when Jess' tears seemed to have subsided, Luke gently pulled the teenager back and held him at arm's length. The kid was red-faced and utterly exhausted but was already wiping his eyes, clearly embarrassed. Before he could turn away from him, however, Luke knew he would have to take charge.

He firmly led the boy to the couch and sat them both down. Jess regarded him, curiously and with a hint of suspicion.

Luke took a deep breath. "Okay," he started. "We need to talk before we go down to Lorelai." Warily, Jess nodded. "First off," Luke said, "this was _not your fault_ and I don't want to hear you talking like that again. You got me?" He fixed Jess with a semi-glare and was relieved when the young man nodded again. "Your mom has problems, kid. We both know that. But who she sends to this town has nothing to do with you." He hoped the firmness in his voice was enough to convince Jess of his sincerity.

"Secondly," Luke continued. "Yes, I was mad at you tonight but not for the state of apartment – that kind of pales in comparison to your own well being." Jess looked at him, a question in his dark eyes. "I was mad," his uncle explained, "because when I tell you to get out of a dangerous situation, you do it – no questions asked."

He saw his nephew open his mouth to protest but he cut him off, swiftly. "No! You don't get to argue with me on this one. I know you and I have differences of opinion on just about everything in life but on _this_ matter – on _your_ safety – there is no difference of opinion. My way is the _only_ way. When I tell you to do something you do _not_ question me."

"I could have helped you!" Jess protested, finally able to interrupt.

"I don't need your help," Luke shot back then amended it as he registered how that sounded. "I mean, I can always use your help but it's _my_ job to protect _you_ not the other way around. _I'm_ the adult, _you're_ the kid – you got that?"

Jess looked away from him and almost sneered. "You didn't see that knife, did you?"

"No," Luke returned, dangerously, taking him by the chin and turning his head back round to face him. "But I would have seen it soon enough and if you _ever_ do anything as stupid as leaping in front of a damned knife again, I will give you a hiding you won't forget in a hurry." From beside him on the couch, Jess turned away once more from his uncle and scoffed, quietly not quite daring to push the issue outright. Luke didn't care. He could get angry as much as he liked but he'd soon find out if his uncle were kidding.

The two of the lapsed in to silence but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. Jess' gaze shifted around the apartment while Luke realised that they really should get back to Lorelai downstairs. He only hoped she had the common sense to come and wait in the diner, where it would be a little warmer.

Presently, he looked over at his nephew and placed a hand on his leg. "We should get going. I'll grab your bag."

"Luke?" The man looked down in surprise at the restraining hand on his arm.

"What is it, Jess?" The kid's expression was kind of embarrassed.

"I was wondering if we could…you know…stay here, tonight?" He glanced away, feeling silly for having mentioned it.

Luke's face creased in confusion. "Jess, the place is a tip. You don't want to spend Christmas here."

Jess refused to meet his questioning look. Instead, he rose from the couch and started to toe the glass shards that he had attempted to sweep into a pile.

"I know it's a mess," he mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant. "But I want to _fix_ it – I don't want to run away from it." Luke moved to stand next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Why is it so important to you, Jess?"

The kid shrugged. "It's not really," he defended. "I just, you know, wanted to have Christmas…at home."

And Luke smiled, feeling a comforting warmth spread across his chest. Wordlessly, he moved away from his nephew and grabbed a hold of the battered Christmas tree, hauling it back upright. Jess grinned and immediately set about gathering up a collection of fallen decorations and tossing them haphazardly onto its branches.

By the time he was finished, they both stood back, looked at it and laughed. "You know," Luke commented. "I think it actually looks better that way."

"Very Picasso," Jess agreed. Suddenly noticing the presents still on the ground, Jess' grin widened and his eyes lit up in surprise. He looked to his uncle, almost shyly.

"Yes, they're for you," Luke confirmed, following the boy's train of thought. "But you have to wait until morning."

"It _is_ morning."

"Then _daylight_ morning."

"Whatever," the teenager mumbled, not especially concerned.

Shaking his head, fondly, Luke set off for the door. "I'm going to go inform Lorelai she's no longer needed."

"Okay," Jess answered. "I'll pick up around here."

His hand on the doorknob, Luke half turned to him. "No. I want you to sit back down on the couch." Off Jess' questioning look, he explained.

"Till we've had a good look at those injuries of yours, you are permanently couched – got it?" He sent him a pressing no-nonsense glare. On seeing it, Jess simply sighed and sank back down, carefully onto the seat.

* * *

Thankfully, the adaptable Ms Gilmore was sitting on one of the diner's chairs at a table. She had, Luke noted, straightened the place up for him, which he very much appreciated. She had also helped herself, in generous amounts to the coffee and pastries from behind the counter but he couldn't help but grin. My god – she'd earned it!

"Well hello there, stranger!" she joked as he emerged from behind the curtain. Her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Unless you've vacuum-packed him and have that nephew of yours stuffed in a pocket somewhere, I'm not sure what gives."

Luke smiled, apologetically. "Ah. I'm really sorry about this, Lorelai but he…kind of wants to stay here." He glanced at the time. Shit! It was almost three am. He'd owe her serious amounts of free meals and coffee after this one.

She smiled and waved off his apologies. "Nah. Forget about it – you can make it up to me later. I've still got time to get home well before Rory wakes up."

He nodded and wandered over to her table, seating himself opposite her. "So," he began. "I talked to Jess."

"Evidently."

"And you were right. You were right about everything."

She sighed. "The number of times a woman would love to hear that from a man but strangely, I can take no pleasure in it." Then she fixed him with a sympathetic smile.

"You're doing a great job, Luke. Don't you go doubting yourself now." She reached across the table and gently squeezed his fingers.

"He thought I was throwing him out, Lorelai."

That pulled her up short. "Oh wow," she breathed.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, that's not good," she agreed. "Poor kid. But he'll be okay now. You guys just need to remember to talk to each other once in a while." Rising, she offered him a charming smile.

"I left your bag in here," she said, indicating where it stood by the counter. He nodded his thanks as he walked her to the door.

"Thank you," he insisted, earnestly. "For everything." She leaned up and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.

"What are friends for?" she dismissed. "And Happy Christmas, by the way."

He laughed – yeah, it was definitely going to be a good one this year. Certainly memorable, that's for sure. "You, too."

And as she climbed in to her car, she turned to him before slamming her door.

"And Luke?" He stepped on to the sidewalk. "Just be careful," she warned in deceptively light tone. "I'm starting to get just a little protective of that kid." Then she slammed her door shut, gave him a short wave and pulled away.

"Yeah," he muttered after her. "You and me both."

* * *

OK – thank you guys for getting down this far. I'm sorry I didn't bring Rory to the party but I don't think the poor boy was in a fit state to woo her and I also think he deserved to be comforted by adults (namely Luke!) rather than her. I figure I can round this off in a shorter last chapter but, as I mentioned, this chapter was getting rather long! Hope you guys don't mind.

Once again, if you would be so kind as to let me know your thoughts I would really, truly appreciate them!! Thank you :-)


	6. Chapter 6

Watching the Watchers – Chapter 6

Standard Disclaimer applies – I have not acquired them since two days ago. Maybe tomorrow, if I'm very good…?

A/N – so, last chapter (I mean it this, time :-) )! Thank you guys SO much for being such lovely reviewers so far and for those who have put the story in favourites or on their alerts. It's really made this story easier to write, reading all your fabulous and very kind comments. I'd like to carry on with more in this vein but I'll have to wait for inspiration to strike, I guess.

I hope I replied to everyone who had an email address but thank you also to _**Lyn**_ – hope you do like the Peter one if you decide to check it out, but thanks also for your lovely comments on this one!

Hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

When he arrived upstairs, he was pleased to see Jess waiting for him, right where he had left him. The kid looked up when he saw the apartment door open. Though he would never admit it to his uncle, there was a small part of Jess that jumped now, whenever he heard a sudden noise. It was only momentary though and Jess knew that, given time, it would fade completely.

"Glad to see the communication thing's starting to work," Luke joked, lightly, indicating where Jess still sat. The boy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah – don't go getting used to it."

Luke chuckled. "That's not likely." He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and returned with the first-aid kit. The older man mentally prepared himself for an argument. "Now," he announced pulling up the footstool and seating himself opposite his nephew. "Let's take a look at you." Immediately, Jess drew back, his expression guarded and tense.

"I already told you," he half whined, half insisted. "I'm just a little bruised. There's nothing in that kit," he said, indicating the white plastic box with a nod of his head, "that's going to help me." Jess flicked his eyes to his uncle, alarmed to see a look of resolved determination on his features. Obviously, Luke had already made up his mind.

"All the same," Luke announced. "I want to check, so let's get that shirt off." Again, Jess shook his head, pressing himself further back against the couch. Luke sighed. "Jess, I promise this won't take long."

"Why won't you believe me?" the kid shot back, hotly. Luke rolled his eyes.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're obviously still in pain and it seems to be giving you trouble breathing…and moving, come to think of it." He glared at his nephew who was, in turn, glaring back at him. Glare all you want, Luke thought, grimly. I swear I can out-glare you any day of the week, Junior. And sure enough, his nephew's eye contact slowly wavered until, once more, the boy looked down at his lap, an irritated expression on his face. Luke was starting to recognise it as a sulk. Well that was okay, he decided. He could cope with a sulking Jess. It was quite endearing, actually, in an annoying sort of way.

"Now _lose_ the shirt," he insisted again, voice just starting to rise.

Scowling mightily, Jess took a hold of the hem and started to ease it up past his stomach, muttering as he did so. "I usually get the money up front, you know."

Luke bit back a chuckle, forcing his face to remain serious. He watched as Jess worked the material up to his chest before his breath seemed to hitch, suddenly. Concerned Luke noticed the colour drain from the kid's face and the pained look of concentration on him. Pausing for a second to catch his breath and regroup, Jess tried again but the moment he forced his arms up past his chest, again, he gasped. Damn it! It hadn't been this difficult getting dressed earlier, he thought to himself.

Gently, but firmly, he suddenly felt Luke's larger hands on his and looked up in surprise at his uncle.

Luke's voice was soft and reassuring. "Relax, Jess. Put your arms down." Gratefully, he did so as the pressure eased from his sides. When Luke was sure he had regained his composure, he shuffled forwards on his footstool, so that he was closer to the boy.

Jess watched him, apprehensively, but without alarm. Whatever Luke was going to do, he didn't have the energy to try and fight. It was gone three in the morning, he'd had an emotionally and physically exhausting night, he'd cried like a god damned infant, for pity's sake and he just wanted to go to bed. At this point, it was all he could do to just _sit_ there.

Luke saw the weariness wash across his nephew's face and smiled. "We'll get you to bed as soon as we can," he told him. "I promise."

"Mmm-hmm," he mumbled.

"Now lean forwards a little for me." And Jess did so. Very carefully, Luke took a hold of the fabric and pulled it up to the boy's chin, holding it there with one hand. Jess watched his uncle's face, carefully as the man inspected what he knew was covering his body. Luke's eyes widened and his jaw ground and Jess suddenly found that he couldn't look at his uncle any more. He didn't want to witness the disgusted, sympathetic expression. Instead, he moved his gaze to the side of the room, purposefully ignoring the man.

Luke remained silent as he gently ran his fingers across the large, purple and black patches, like ink stains, marring his nephew's sides and chest. Jess was tense and rigid and Luke instinctively knew how difficult it was for Jess to have his weaknesses exposed. However, he couldn't worry about that right now.

He was no doctor but he surmised that, while most of the bruises looked painful, but harmless, there was one along the lower ribs of his chest, that gave him concern. Not so much for the way it looked but for the instant recoil from Jess, the moment his fingers brushed anywhere near it.

Inwardly, Luke knew he wasn't going to be able to avoid a visit to the ER as much as Jess was going to hate it. He looked, sympathetically at the teenage boy, still tense and detached in front of him, understanding just how much he simply wanted to fall into bed and sleep till morning. Suddenly, the notion that, not so long ago, the kid had been preparing to wait at a freezing bus station for three hours, made Luke want to hit something, or cry, or both.

Applying a light pressure to one side of Jess' chest, Luke led the boy to turn slightly, allowing him to inspect his sides more fully. Again, similar bruising, though smaller in size and less frequent in number, peppered his skin. One, in particular, stood out. It was long and narrow but darker than the others. He narrowed his eyes and hovered his fingers over it.

"Jess?" he asked. "What's this one?" Jess brought his attention back to his uncle and spared the mark in question, a quick glance.

"Boot."

Very calm, very cool, Luke simply nodded. "I see." Then his eyes fell upon the tiny white lines, criss-crossing in patterns along the skin, mixed in with redder, more recent looking ones. Jess saw where his eyes had fallen and immediately flicked his gaze back to staring blankly into space. The message to Luke was clear: _don't ask_.

For now, Luke respected it.

The urge to hold him again was almost overwhelming but, seeing what he saw now, the older man knew that he couldn't. Not only might it have caused more pain than comfort but Jess was far too tense and guarded to allow it. He'd been vulnerable before, unable to protect himself from others. But now, his defences were coming back up and a part of Jess' mind had retreated to a place where Luke was almost certain no one else was allowed in to.

Luke moved to sit next to his nephew on the couch. "Turn around," he instructed. Jess complied as best he could until his back was facing his uncle, glad that he wouldn't have to catch the grimaces and darkening eyes. Instead, he continued to stare ahead.

Luke had let the front of the shirt drop and now pulled the back as far up as he could, revealing a few minor bruises and a selection of shallow cuts. Luke winced.

"I'm sorry, Jess," he said. "There are some cuts here that need to be cleaned up." Jess nodded. He'd not seen the state his back was in so he just took Luke's word for it. Luke leaned in to inspect them carefully. If it happened when the pictures broke then there might be glass still inside. He couldn't see any but this light wasn't brilliant and his eyes weren't the sharpest. "Let's move this to the bathroom, Jess," he said. "The light's better in there and I need the sink." He let the shirt go and Jess stood, silently, following his uncle into the bathroom.

As he stood facing the counter, Jess now realised he would have the mirror staring him in the face, every time he looked up. He caught a quick glimpse of his reflection: dark circles under his eyes, pale face and tousled hair. Perhaps it was the bathroom lighting, but he could swear he looked positively gaunt. Jess quickly cast his eyes down to the granite counter.

Quickly and efficiently, Luke cleaned the wounds grateful to see them reduce in severity once the excess blood had been washed away. Soaking a cotton swab in antiseptic, Luke began to dab and swipe at the cuts. From the reflection in the mirror, Luke could see Jess screw his eyes shut at the first pass of the stinging antiseptic but otherwise, he gave no outward reaction.

The older scars were more numerous and pronounced across his back and Luke bit his tongue to avoid commenting on them. Some looked suspiciously knife-like. Liz hadn't mentioned them but then Liz never would. Oh, for five minutes in a room with some of her boyfriends, he thought to himself, grimly.

"So, Jess," Luke began, cutting some gauze into small strips. "I think we're just about done here." He watched as Jess gratefully nodded, eyes starting to slide shut, making Luke feel guilty for having to crush his hopes.

"The rest of this we're going to have to let the doctors at the hospital handle."

Unsurprisingly, Jess' head shot up and he tried to turn to face him. Luke's strong hands held him in place, however. "We're not done quite yet," he informed him, taping the gauze neatly in place.

"I don't need to go to hospital!" Jess argued, for the first time seeming panicked. "You've fixed me up – I'm fine now."

He was done with the tape and he turned Jess to face him, keeping a firm hold of him by his arms. "No you're not. Not yet. I want them to check your chest." He hurried on when he saw Jess about to protest again. "You're having trouble breathing and don't bother denying it, Jess – I'm not blind! One of these bruises is obviously causing you more pain than the others and I want to know why."

"But..."

"No!" The older man glared, forcing Jess to look at him. "You remember the _my way's the only way_ speech? That wasn't just _talk_. You're sick, you're injured, you do whatever I say until I'm happy you're okay again – end of story. Now we are going to the ER and you are _not_ storming out of this apartment, nor are you going to argue with me. I _will_ physically _put_ you in the car if I have to."

Jess was tired, Jess was in pain and Jess did not feel up to being bundled into a car or listening to any more lectures. Very reluctantly, still scowling and looking thoroughly miserable, he nodded.

When he was sure of his nephew's cooperation, Luke smiled, warmly at him. "Good." He wrapped a hand around the boy's neck and pulled him towards him, smoothing the back of his dark hair. In testament to the kid's exhaustion, he didn't try to stop him, just rolled his eyes and sighed.

* * *

Hospital chairs were not built for comfort, Luke decided. The clock on the corridor wall read five am but it felt later. There was something so detached about hospitals –so insular that it made gauging the passing of time to be difficult. Luke gazed at the red and white tiled walls for a moment longer before deciding that he would have to brave another cup of coffee from the machine down the hall. It wasn't much and in fact, it tasted horrible, but he needed the boost.

He wandered the short distance to the machine. Jess was still in X-Ray and Luke had been instructed to wait in the world's most uncomfortable chairs, outside. The hospital had been fairly quiet when they had arrived – some minor accidents and the occasional Christmas drunk comprising the majority of the patients – so Jess had been seen mercifully quickly. Luke wasn't sure if he would have been able to keep him quite so quiet if they'd been in for a longer wait.

Coffee in hand, Luke ambled back to his seat and dug out the paper work they had handed to him once Jess was admitted. He'd intended to do it while Jess was in his appointment as the boy had insisted he didn't need his uncle in the room with him. However, as it had turned out, when not being examined by his uncle, Jess reverted to his usual charming, uncooperative self.

Not five minutes into the examination and the frazzled doctor was poking his head out from behind the curtain, eyes desperately scanning for the man who had brought his patient in. When Luke had seen the expression, he almost smiled. _Yup, my friend_, he thought. _That was me three months ago_.

Without a word, Luke had uncrossed his legs and followed the grateful doctor into the cubicle. On seeing his uncle enter, Jess had frowned but immediately and quietly sat back down on the bed. Luke wasn't sure what had transpired before he had entered the space but on seeing the doctor creep forward and tentatively hold his stethoscope up to the boy's chest as if at any moment, his hand would be taken clean off, the diner owner could fathom a guess. He tried very hard not grin. No, his Jess was not a happy camper.

With the last of the forms filled in, Luke looked back towards the X-Ray room and sighed. What was taking them so long? He wondered. Were they x-raying each bone individually? At least Jess seemed to be behaving himself in there, though Luke couldn't really blame him for being snappy. _He_ was feeling tense and wound up and he wasn't even the one in pain.

He was just about to meander on back to drop the forms off at the Reception when a doctor approached him. Curiously, Luke halted. He wasn't nervous because he knew Jess wasn't in immediate danger but it didn't sit well with him when medical staff approached him.

"Mr. Danes," the man greeted him, shaking Luke's hand. "I'm Doctor Wilcox. I've been reviewing your nephew's records. Can we sit?"

Luke shrugged. "Sure," he answered. "I don't think Jess is coming out any time soon." But as he made to sit back down on the plastic chairs, Dr. Wilcox shook his head and held his hand out along the corridor, gesturing for Luke to follow.

"We'll be more comfortable in one of the exam rooms, Mr. Danes. If you'll follow me?" He shot a quick glance to the X-Ray door. "If Jess comes out before we're done, then one of the nurses will come and tell us – don't worry." Though the man was polite and smiling, Luke became nervous, his palms starting to sweat. This wasn't good, he thought. Private consultations with doctors weren't good.

However, he smiled and nodded, following the short, balding man into an examination room further down the hall. Once inside, Wilcox indicated a more comfortable looking chair for Luke to sit in and as he did so, the doctor closed the door behind him. Luke was starting to feel a little trapped.

"So," Luke began, trying not to sound nervous…or guilty. "What did you want to talk to me about? I've got the rest of his insurance and admission forms here, if that's what you wanted?" He held the sheaf of papers up, hopefully. Wilcox smiled and shook his head.

"No, that's fine, Mr. Danes. You can just drop those at the Reception before you leave." Luke nodded, feeling like he was floundering a little.

"Mr. Danes, the reason I've asked to speak with you is because we have a few questions regarding your nephew that I hope you may be able to help us with."

Luke took a deep breath. "Sure," he answered. "Whatever you need."

"Good." The doctor paused. "I've reviewed Jess' medical records and there appear to be some notable gaps."

"Gaps?" Luke repeated, leaning forwards.

Doctor Wilcox leant back in his chair and regarded Luke oddly. "Mr. Danes, how long has Jess lived with you?"

Luke frowned as he thought about it. "He came to me at the end of this summer – so about three months now." Wilcox seemed to be taking this in. Jess' file was open in front of him and every now and then, the man ran his pen down a particular section and tapped the page. He seemed to be weighing up his words.

"Does he ever go back?" the doctor finally asked. "To his home from before?"

Luke's eyes narrowed. "He hasn't yet and…I don't intend for him to, no." Looking at Wilcox, he knew the man understood.

Sighing, Wilcox shut the file. "Mr. Danes, I have to tell you that when a patient, particularly a minor, comes in with injuries consistent with an attack we feel obliged to look in to the matter. When we then find out this patient has previous unrecorded injuries…well you can see how this complicates things further?"

Luke simply nodded, numbly. He wasn't sure what to do, but if they insisted on calling the police, he wasn't going to stop them. Liz would just have to take her chances. It was her son who now had his priorities.

"I understand," Luke insisted. "Jess' welfare is more important to me than anything."

Dr. Wilcox leant forwards in his chair. "Mr. Danes, Jess is insisting that his injuries are accidental and while I don't believe this, I _do_ believe that you had nothing to do with them and that your nephew is in no danger from you."

At this, Luke sat up straight. "I would never hurt that kid!" he exclaimed, appalled at the very idea that he was even, for a moment, insinuated with it.

Wilcox held up a placating hand. "As I said, Mr. Danes, I don't believe you would. And this is still a private matter between you and your nephew. As much as I would advise seeking action against your nephew's attackers, that's up to the two of you. Provided his home life is secure…"

"It _is_," Luke interjected, forcefully.

"Then that's all that directly concerns us. Just, now that he's safe, please make sure he stays that way." Then he rose and offered his hand for Luke to shake, which he did grateful to have ended the conversation and very keen to get back to his nephew.

* * *

Jess was back in his small exam room by twenty minutes to six. This time, Luke joined them from the start and was sat waiting for the small party to return. When Jess was led back in, he immediately sat next to Luke on the bed, not saying a word, but leaning up against him.

"Can we go home yet?" he asked his uncle, quietly. Luke brushed some hair out of the teenager's eyes and shook his head.

"Not just yet. We have to talk to the doctor again first – see what the x-rays found." Jess could probably have figured that out for himself, if he wasn't so drowsy and sapped of energy. His cuts had already been looked at again and inspected for glass before being properly dressed. It was only his ribs that had given them cause for concern.

His examining doctor, Doctor Bede, was yet to enter the room, presumably still going over the results of the exam. Jess sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head against Luke's shoulder. His uncle chuckled. "We'll get you to bed as soon as we can, Jess. I swear." Jess didn't answer him and Luke could almost have believed he had fallen asleep. Silently Luke relished the connection, wishing it didn't take something as drastic as an ER visit to establish it. Hopefully, he and Jess would find a way, once all this was over, to keep that connection but without the drama.

When Bede entered the cubicle, Jess did not bother opening his eyes. On seeing him, the doctor smiled while Luke gave him an apologetic look. "It's been a long night," he explained, needlessly.

"I understand. Well, Jess," he started, holding up the boy's x-ray and causing Luke to lean in a little closer. "I've reviewed the results of your chest CT scan and, as I suspected, you have a minor fracture to your fifth rib." He pointed out the small white line crossing the dark mass in question. "It's a common injury with blunt trauma."

Luke frowned in concern. "Will he have to stay in hospital?" At that, Jess _did_ open his eyes.

"I am _not_ staying here!" he cut in, voice rising. Luke shot him a deadly look, which silenced him, albeit begrudgingly.

Bede cleared his throat. "I'm not too concerned about it," he assured them. "Jess is able to cough and clear secretions." Jess rolled his eyes at the embarrassingly distasteful explanation as the doctor continued. "Provided he takes it easy for a week or so, there should be no further complications and I'll give you a list of signs to look out for when you leave. He can go home today."

Luke breathed a sigh of relief. "So that's it?" he asked.

"Well, I'm going to prescribe some Ketoprofen for pain relief. It's a reasonably mild drug but you'll need to make sure he takes it in small doses – Jess does have a reasonably low body mass."

"I do _not_," the boy retorted, ignored by the adults in the room.

"Well, thank you, Doctor Bede." Making sure he was no longer propping Jess up, Luke stood and shook the doctor's hand, taking the piece of paper he handed to him as he did so.

"Not a problem. You two have a good Christmas." And with one last smile, Bede left to continue his rounds. The end in sight, Luke turned to look at his nephew.

"How about it Rip Van Winkle? Ready to get out of here?"

Ignoring the jibe, Jess pushed himself off the bed and grabbed his jacket from the nearby chair. "Finally," he muttered, exiting the cubicle and leaving an amused Luke behind, simply shaking his head.

* * *

At seven am, prescriptions and medical checklists in hand, Luke and Jess closed the door to their apartment. Luke discreetly locked it as Jess wandered over to kick his shoes off and sink down on the couch.

The apartment had never looked as good as it did then. Even his mattress looked like the most comfortable mattress in the world. It was familiar and safe and _his_. On the journey back, Luke had tried to persuade him to take the bed for a while, until he had healed but Jess had repeatedly refused until Luke had eventually given up.

Spying him on the couch, Luke grinned, walking over. "All right, Jess," he announced. "Bed time. Most definitely. Do you want a hand with your shirt?" However, unexpectedly, the boy was shaking his head.

"Not just yet," Jess insisted. Puzzled, Luke came and sat down next to him.

"I don't get it, Jess. You've been falling asleep for the last four hours." And Jess shrugged, a little sheepishly and looked away.

"But it's Christmas morning," he pointed out. "I don't want to spend Christmas in bed."

Luke laughed. "Jess, we can do Christmas when you wake up – it'll still be here." But Jess just shook his head again, stubbornly.

"It's not the same," he insisted, feeling a little silly for being so sentimental. Luke sighed, took his cap off and ran a callused hand through his hair. He could do with a shower, Luke thought to himself, feeling a week's worth of grime and sweat in only a matter of hours. The notion of bed and sleep was not unappealing to him, either but he knew he couldn't go before he had settled his nephew down for the night, first.

"Jess, we're both worn out," Luke began, attempting to reason with the boy. However, he was getting the impression that reasoning with an emotionally and physically exhausted teenager was not as easy as he'd imagined it would be. If anything, Jess' stubbornness and intolerance levels had just increased.

"And you've taken your meds at the hospital – Doc warned they could make you a little drowsy. Well, drows_ier_. Don't you think it would be best to just kick back and get some sleep for a little while?"

Jess simply set his jaw in a determined line and glared at him. Luke pushed down the little niggling signs of frustration. He was _not_ going to snap at his nephew. If he wanted any kind of close relationship with him, the older man knew he was going to have to keep patience as paramount in his dealings with Jess. It wouldn't always be easy, but it would be worth it in the end.

Luke took a deep breath. "Fine," he said, watching as Jess smiled, triumphantly. He held up a hand to forestall the victory dance. "I'll make a compromise with you." Immediately, the wary frown reappeared across the young man's face.

"What compromise?"

"While you're still awake enough to do it, you get ready for bed now." Jess appeared somewhat annoyed but nodded his head with a disparaging tut.

"Then," Luke continued, feeling encouraged by the acquiescence, "we will sit round this tree – the tree is non-negotiable, by the way – and open presents." At that, Jess smiled and Luke got the distinct impression that was all the kid really wanted, anyway.

"And after that," Luke finished, "you will go to bed. No fuss. No stalling. Some time this afternoon you'll wake up, we'll have Christmas dinner and watch the Christmas movie." He sat back and regarded his nephew, carefully. "Deal?"

"You drive a hard bargain," Jess responded, thoughtfully. Luke smiled and shrugged.

"Which movie?"

Luke looked nonplussed. "Any one."

"Horror Channel?"

"The Horror Channel doesn't _have_ a Christmas movie."

"Yes it does."

"Well, we're not watching the Horror Channel."

"You said any one," Jess pointed out, accusingly.

"Well, I didn't _mean_ any one."

"I see. Indecisive. The Playboy Channel."

"Even if they did a Christmas movie, which I very much doubt they do, I don't _subscribe_ to the Playboy Channel."

And Jess winked at him, conspiratorially. "I can fix that for you, at no extra cost."

"_The Santa Claus_!"

Jess stopped and looked in surprise at the sudden outburst. "The what?"

"_The Santa Claus_ – that's what we're watching." Luke suddenly found living in a democracy to be too stressful.

"I've seen it," Jess protested.

"And you'll see it again," his uncle confirmed. "Until you can name every little elf's face."

After a moment's pause, Jess' mouth turned up at one corner in a smile. "So is this going to be our new Christmas tradition?" And the thought that he might have the kid back for enough Christmases to _form_ a tradition, made Luke grin, widely.

"We'll try to arrange it without the hospital visits, next time," he agreed.

"And Tim Allen."

"If you say so," his uncle agreed. "So, if we've reached an understanding, let's get you ready for bed." Jess nodded and pushed himself up to his feet, swaying a little as fatigue and drugs caught up with him. Immediately, Luke's hand was at his elbow, not gripping but steadying. And Luke was, for a moment, taken aback by the honest, grateful look that he shot him.

Every step forward, no matter how large or small, was a step in the right direction, he reminded himself as he helped his nephew change for bed.

* * *

Piles of wrapping paper lay strewn over the floor, discarded with Jess' usual level of neatness. Luke barely believed that such relatively small packages could have produced such ridiculously large quantities of wrapping.

Jess had gone for the book-shaped present first, which didn't really surprise Luke. He'd grinned when he'd ripped the paper off and revealed the title. Giving Luke a curious glance, the older man supplied:

"I asked Rory. I had no idea. She wrapped it, too."

"Huh," Jess had replied, trying very hard to sound casually disinterested. Luke smiled, knowingly. Jess' crush was more than a little apparent and, as long as it remained a harmless crush, it was quite endearing. Jess had rolled his eyes when he caught sight of his uncle's amused expression but had thanked him, anyway.

The cell phone had been a big hit and Luke had had to stress, _several_ times, that it was _not_ for long distance calls or calling inappropriate numbers. Jess had then succeeded in eliciting a rather long, fumbling and awkward explanation from Luke about what he constituted as an _inappropriate_ number. Finally, after several minutes, Jess had given up and started laughing, wincing at the pressure it was putting on his ribs but beyond caring. This caused Luke to groan wearily and swat him on the head with the empty box but his uncle took it all in his stride.

And as the last of the gifts were unwrapped, and Jess leaned back against the couch, Luke could tell the excitement was wearing down and the need to sleep, reasserting itself. He was once again extremely glad the kid was ready to roll into bed without manoeuvring t-shirts over heads and pulling off socks.

"So," Luke began, leaning back next to him, with a sigh. "You just about ready to lay down for a few hours?" Silently, Jess nodded. It was a small, slow gesture, indicative of the increasing tug of sleep taking hold of him.

"I'll wake you when it's time." Jess barely responded and Luke looked closer to see his eyes were closing. He chuckled and gently nudged him with his elbow.

"Hey," he coaxed. "You with me?" No response. Luke grinned, wickedly. "I can carry you to bed, if you want?" Finally, Jess opened his eyes a crack and mumbled something distinctly affronted.

"I got you something," Jess muttered suddenly, so quietly Luke had to lean in closer to the boy to hear him.

"It's in my closet. It's not much," Jess defended, quickly, suddenly embarrassed at the admission of having bought anything at all. "Not like what you gave me. But, well, you know…it's just… _something_." He glanced at Luke's surprised smile and shifted a little, uncomfortably. His uncle was looking far too pleased for what was actually awaiting him when he unwrapped it.

"Don't get excited," he warned again. "I told you – it's not much. Sorry." He spared another quick glance at Luke and was alarmed to see the man looking positively emotional. "Don't get mushy!" he insisted, forcefully, backing away an inch or two.

And Luke chuckled and, before Jess could react, leant forwards and kissed him on the top of his head. The teenager pulled back, in haste, muttering darkly at the subterfuge affection and rearranging his already messy hair.

"I've got enough," Luke insisted and Jess rolled his eyes, even as the warmth spread through his chest.

"Jess?" Luke announced, all of a sudden and the serious tone to his uncle's voice, made Jess regard him, a little apprehensively.

"Serious topic." Jess nodded and waited. "New rule and this one's non-negotiable until I say otherwise." Again, Jess narrowed his eyes warily but remained silent for Luke to explain.

"I know she's your mom and I know New York's your home but I don't want you going back there without me." He paused.

"If it were up to me, I don't really want you going back at all but I understand you've still got a life there. But you don't go alone – even to see friends. I know you may think I'm interfering, being paranoid, whatever. I can live with that." He fixed Jess directly in the eye.

"What I can't live with is anything like this ever happening again. You got me?"

Tentatively, he sat back and waited for Jess' response, prepared to lay down the law, hoping he wouldn't have to. But Jess simply shrugged.

"Whatever." He looked down at his lap. "Wasn't really planning on going back much anyway. You know?"

Luke simply nodded, a bittersweet smile just creasing his lips. "Yeah, kid. I know."

* * *

Right – that's it. I really hope the last part didn't disappoint. I hope you all enjoyed it. I'm sorry if some of it seemed out of character – I haven't seen much of GG so I was basing it mainly on season 2 and some of season 3.

Please, please, please, I know there's a tendency to ignore last chapters of stories but if I could ask you guys to be as brilliant as you have been so far and to let me know what you thought of this, it would really help me for future fics and would totally make my day!

Thank you!


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